


Knight Upon the Main

by imperiality



Series: Upon the Main [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abduction, Action, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Attempted Seduction, Drowning, Enemies to Lovers, Fantasy, For the most part, Galra are good, Happy Ending, Humans Alteans and Galra live in harmony, Implied/Referenced Torture, Literally every other paragraph says "sharks", M/M, Magic, Mermen, Military, Navy, Sharks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-03 07:52:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 45,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16322189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperiality/pseuds/imperiality
Summary: "My name is Takashi Shirogane. You killed my crew mates. Prepare to die."





	1. The Send and the Search

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strawberrylovely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrylovely/gifts).



> Happy birthday, nat
> 
> Please listen to [this gorgeous song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fIq5rDpCa-Y)

Dark is the blood that pumps within Shiro’s veins. Darker, much darker is the laughter of evil men with hearts perverted by greed. Dark, a different dark is the night that dawns over King Kolivan's kingdom and all his people. Dark, deep, and hungry are the chopping waves that rock Captain Shirogane’s boat as he voyages coastline to coastline. Dark too are the eyes that watch the water ebb and flow.

Darkest of all are the cries and night terrors that prowl just beneath the black, frothy sea.

Captain Shirogane is not a stranger to terrors, night or day alike. He is not deaf to splitting cries. He is not squeamish to enemy blood running and spilling over his hands. Enemies, he knows no strangeness to, either. Shirogane is long conditioned to the red dripping over his hands and smearing his face; the dripping red that bleeds over the horizon. Deep red was the sacrifice of his right arm; a small price to pay for the security of his people. His sabbaticals smell like the iron of sharpened swords, hastened strikes and blood clotting wounds.

Captain Shirogane lives and thrives for the weeping blood and acid sweat not for satisfaction. Not for the glory for his own sake, not for the medals on his chest or the ribbons on his arm. No, the reason he fights to win and lives to die is singular and simple. For the duty over the people, the loyalty he's long sworn for the king; this is why he fights. Not only is his arm something he’s willing to give. He has long since pledged his entire life for the sake of Terra’s kingdom. The new metal arm isn’t as fluid, but serviceable enough. It lets him continue with his missions.The Captain rises and breathes each day to serve.He lives to defend. He heeds King Kolivan's commands because he knows there is a job to do.

“Captain Shirogane, his Majesty seeks your office most immediately.”

Granted, not all of his Majesty’s commands seem immediately pertinent or logical.

“Just before training?” Shiro asks the frazzled errand boy. Had the Captain been a Low Admiral, he would have pushed harder against acquiescing. Had Shirogane overseen his own fleet, he would have outright refused the King’s summoning. But then, Shiro considers, if he were a Fleet Admiral he would not be troubled with leading training at all.

“His Majesty assures it’s most important.”

“Oh it’s most important?”

The errand boy, only standing as high as the Captain’s chest, nods a frantic head. Only after Shiro hums and sighs in understanding does he scurry away. Shiro commands another Captain to resume the knights’ training regimen, then follows behind the errand boy in a decidedly more sedate pace. He saunters really, watching the boy dash off when they reach close enough to the room near the King’s chambers. He pulls the door open, hardly pushing it closed fully again before addressing matters. The Captain stands by the threshold, bowing his head. Shiro’s voice is low when he speaks, Kolivan’s backside facing him.

“Your Majesty. I was told it is urgent.”

Kolivan grunts. He leans his whole weight on his outstretched hands, bracing himself against his heavy mahogany desk. His fingernails clench into his palms.

“Captain Shirogane.” He sighs deep, expelling his demons in one harsh breath. “It is Lance.”

Shiro gasps. He scorns himself for thinking he could take even a short walk for granted. Every minute hastened to his Majesty’s suite could have been another minute defeating Lance. Another minute gained could have been another life saved. He holds himself straighter.

Shiro dreads to ask, “what has Lance done this time?”

Before he takes two steps towards him, the King holds up his hand. Then, he stretches it out to point towards the windows before them both. Outside the sky is overcast and grey. The clouds are indiscernible from each other, sweeping and whispy. They obscure any pure blue from above. Below, the waters of the coast are just as tumultuous. _Testy_ , Shiro thinks would be a better word.

Tentatively Shiro steps a couple steps closer. King Kolivan is quiet in solemn contemplation.

“Commander Holt has just reported to me another drowned ship.” Shiro doesn’t have the time to feel either shocked or sick before His Majesty continues. “What do you see out there, Captain?”

Frankly, Shiro doesn’t know why Kolivan isn’t asking First Admiral Antok or even Duke Keith that question. He doesn’t even know why he’s in the room with the King, he doesn’t know how this concerns him yet. Instead of paying his ignorance any mind, he answers Kolivan’s question without an angle.

Shiro looks out beyond the window, then to the King to gauge his expression. Nothing is revealed. He looks back out to the horizon.

“The clouds have been grey all day, your Majesty.” He begins. “I see empty waters, harsh waves and changing tides.”

At last, his Majesty King Kolivan turns to look Shiro in the eyes. Cryptic and hollow he asks, “Captain. Look out again.” His tone is far too pointed, “What is it that you do not see?”

“Your Majesty… I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Hmm.” Kolivan holds his gaze sharp out to the swelling waves.

To the King’s question, there are too many ways for Shiro to answer. He doesn’t know what he doesn’t know. He doesn’t see… any ships. He doesn’t see any sky above, any creatures within the sea. He doesn’t see First Admiral Antok, Shiro doesn’t see Low Admiral Thace. He doesn’t see this he doesn’t see that. Whatever is Kolivan trying to imply?

“Do you see Lance out there, lurking beneath the depths?” The King at last folds into the silence. Shiro shakes his head, still ambivalent and remotely confused. Kolivan must notice Shiro’s gaining impatience, so he finally answers the question he’s been asking all along. “You don’t see Lance out there, do you. You don’t see him and his minions sinking our ships. Drowning our cargo. Torturing our people- these are men, women and children, Captain.”

The Captain’s face tightens. He knows all this. He knows all these things well, far too well. He’s never had to see the dead, hollow look of men returned from Lance’s horror; no man has ever returned from it.

The King continues. “You don’t see the blood- _our blood, Captain_ \- poisoning and letting in the water. Unless you’re on the very damn ship, you only see what happens that breaks on the wave’s surface. Lance may hide all his doings within the sea, but we must bring him to light.”

Shiro agrees, agrees with his heart and soul and mind and strength. The kingdom of Terra will surely put an end to the havoc and hurt Lance’s madness has caused. Shirogane holds onto this hope every day, every minute and every second. He knows if he doubts it for even a second, a minute, gods forbid a day- it would mean Terra’s ultimate ruin.

Especially when, without warning or inflection, King Kolivan declares “You must bring him to light.”

Shiro nods with full conviction. He watches the King’s eyes watching him. They bear down. Down. Shiro dares to look up. His Majesty’s words finally click.

“My lord?”

The hand Kolivan lays on Shiro’s shoulder is far too grave. His eyes too piercing when they look into Shiro. His words unravel like the rope of a thick noose.

“Captain Shirogane. You need to be the one to draw Lance out. You know the seas, you can read the waters. Captain, you know where Lance lurks.” He squeezes Shiro’s shoulder tight enough for Shiro to feel his own pulse. “You know the way to bring Lance to the surface.” Tighter and tighter he presses. “You know the way to defeat him for all of our sakes.”

“I see.” Yet still, Shiro truthfully does not. He is loathe to question the King, but this is an instance he finds Kolivan’s commands not logical. (However pertinent they now may be.) “But your Majesty, why not give commands to First Admiral Antok? Or even Low Admiral Thace? I’m sure Ke- Duke Keith would love to be charged with this mission. They have more authority, they can bring fleets down upon Lance. Since Keith- his Highness is in line for the throne, you could use his title to recruit faster. I’m just a captain your Majesty; how do I have the jurisdiction to bring Lance to justice?”

In response, the King shakes his head. “I do not want fleets reigning over Lance to subdue him. Terra will make more of less. We don’t need stronger, but smarter” he says. “Captain Shirogane, I want you and a small group of men and women to search under Lance’s waters.” With his hand still crushing over the Captain’s neck, Kolivan leads them away from the window. He points to maps, papers and schematics piled on his desk. “You and your team will find his lair, trap him, and kill him.”

Shiro swallows discreetly.

The King asks “Do you understand?”

Captain Shirogane knows it is a request he cannot refuse. “Yes my Lord.” He bows in submission.

“Good.” Then the King finally releases the grip of his palm. However, his gaze is no less repressing. “I know you won’t fail me, Captain. I want quick work made of this. Remember, your first and only objective is success.”

Shiro finishes, “For there is no other option.”

When the King has said his piece he dismisses Shiro from his suite. Bewildered, Shiro can’t help but take a moment to just breathe outside of the room. To gather his thoughts. He measures his heartbeat.

_To take down Lance alone._ He considers. _But I wouldn’t be alone. I would have “a small team of men and women.”_ Shiro amends sardonically. As he walks back towards the naval yard from which he was summoned, his mind is restless in thought. Continuously he thinks of himself, a simple naval captain, approaching and apprehending Lance in all his righteousness. He thinks of all the men and women that have gone before him, never to be seen again. How their unheard cries are echoing down in the sea’s black depths. Shiro thinks of Lance merciless and blood-thirsty; his heart darker than the waters he haunts.

Would Shiro be among the lame and muted men? Will his cries only reach the surface of the waves, and not the surface of the shore? Would Lance even be so kind as to give death to him in haste?

_No, no he would not be._ Shiro’s steps are heavy, determined as he walks. _He would not give death in any way, for he would not be given the opportunity._

Success. For there is no other option.

By the time he arrives at the courtyard, he already has his mind half-made about his crew. As another vessel anchors down, he approaches a nearby Commander. Discreetly, and vaguely he tells her the news. She nods her head, then hurries away to gather sailors at Shiro’s behest. Then, he waits. On a short podium he stands as people gather. The ships, the training grounds, the docks are all emptied as they swarm towards him. He meets eyes with none of them.

When they right themselves in formation, his mind is made fully. He wastes no breath and minces no word as he speaks out among them.

“Today, I hear of yet another drowned ship taken by Lance’s hand. At this moment he stillgrows stronger, as he soaks in the blood of knights and innocents.” He glares not into their faces, but into the ashy air above them. “We will mourn, but now is the time for action. Let not another drop of blood shed on Lance’s account. Let not another family lose to the sea’s harsh waters. Let Terra prevail over this water demon which has plagued us for far too long.” The sailors’ attention is rapt. “Let me have a team of men and women among you. I need the brave and the strong, for though we will be few, we will be mighty. Together we will sail out into Lance’s waters, and capture him. Subdue him. Together we will defeat him once and for all.”

Shiro knows that amongst his men, each thinks they are the one to be chosen for his mission. Some faces betray their hope, their expectancy. In others he sees pride or presumption. In even less he sees humility; some, nothing at all. He alleviates their suspicions by calling out names one by one.

From the King’s knights standing before him, Shiro calls out two men and three women. Each one marches to join the line where they stand before the rest. Shiro knows the rest of his crew are not amidst the rest and will have to seek them later. For now he nods to his crew, but they do not nod back. They all wait for his next words.

“Dismissed.”

The sailors simultaneously salute, then disperse.

“You five,” the men and women perk up, still at attention in a line. “To the planning room immediately. Make yourselves useful while I gather the rest of our crew. Dismissed.”

The five salute, scatter, and make haste to their next station. Shiro likewise walks briskly to the last men he needs in his crew. It is a tall order he knows he will ask, but it is a tall order he has been given. He is assured they will see the urgency, and comply accordingly.

High Captain Iverson and High Captain Holt are to be Shiro’s Second and Third mates, respectively. Iverson to keep the others in check, mostly. Holt is to then keep Iverson in check, and help keep the mood light as they sail to their doom.

Shirogane snorts perversely.

Mostly, High Captain Holt’s presence on Shiro’s mission is for emotional support. His (and his son’s) genius strategizing and engineering don’t hurt, either. In another portion of his mind, Shiro also wants to keep a friend close. He hates requesting that the man sail with him to the tides of Hell, but Shiro doesn’t know if he can do it without him.

_Besides,_ the Captain thinks as he hurries to the offices, _High Captain Holt might be the strongest asset of the team._

Because out of all of them, High Captain Holt might very well know the most about Lance. Shiro remembers climbing through King Kolivan’s ranks being told story after story of Lance. Fable after fable. At the great dining hall where sailors, knights would come home, barely by the skin of their teeth, arms and hands would gesture wide retelling of The Great Terror Lance. On vessels when Shiro would man the deck, sailors would wear all their bravado as they told how they just barely nicked the skin of Lance’s fin. How his mighty tail nearly capsized the boat, and how the water seemed to cackle in his wake.

Then in the midst of their boasting, Samuel Holt would approach in silence. He would address the mass in nothing more than humility. Sobering were his words and tone. When the sailors returned to their duties, Holt would pull Shirogane aside to dissuade of any tales. He would tell him the truth.

“Long ago,” he would say with tired eyes, “man and water were at peace. Lance lived peacefully below the sea, while mortals populated the earth above.” Shiro believed every word. “But one day, for reasons unknown, Lance became restless. He became angry. Perhaps the waters weren’t vast enough for him, or the shifting blood that runs through his veins became too primal. As a god, the people knew that Lance always _was_ ; he was self-created. But perhaps somehow, the magic that made him great eventually overwhelmed him.”

Lance was a god. Is a god, and is a god who holds deadly domain over Terran coastal shores. He appears as a gliding shark with black pointed tips, as well as a man man with azure glow. In either form he inspires fear too archaic and supernatural to comprehend. Shiro has never seen him at all, not in either form. He doesn’t feel he needs to. Not in order to give the respect Lance is due.

“Maybe it was the primal blood which overcame him. It made him bloodthirsty. And because he feels no consequence for his actions, he only gained power.” Shiro said.

“Very true, son. But hear this,” Holt had raised a finger. “Lance is not a man. Lance is not a shark. He is not a simple changeling or fae or goblin or ghost. Lance is a _god_ , Shiro. A master of his own creation; nearly immortal.” He drew a breath. “But only nearly. That, and that alone is our last hope. His _near_ -immortality is our only shot at success. Because of course, there is no other option.”

Shiro does his best to remember every word High Captain Holt has told him. He clings tight to every word of caution, every prudent silence. Overeager and ebullient Holt might sometimes be, but Shiro can’t think of a better person he’d want as his Third mate. The High Captain’s wisdom abounds in spades. Shiro knows Holt is going to be the backbone of this mission.

But just as soon as he reaches the High Captain’s office, he feels another hand crashing down on his shoulder. He’s expecting to see one of his crew mates or even another captain to ask about his orders. The face he sees he doesn’t have the pleasure of recognizing. At all.

Before Shirogane can open his mouth to speak, a red-haired, desperate-eyed man pleads without a word. From his glittering eyes, Shiro knows this man is a magician. From the strength in his arms and the clutch of his fingers, this man has fought for every right he has. By the marks on his face, he less _fought_ for them, more trained.

“Are you Captain Shirogane?” he asks.

Shiro finds his accent unusual, even for a magic-wielder. He nods to the man in reply.

“And you have orders to take the next ship out to face Lance?”

Shiro nods to confirm.

In a tone just short of an order, the man says “You must take me with you.”

This raises the voice from Shiro’s mind. “Excuse me?”

“I am Coran, Astral Magician for King Kolivan,” he explains quickly. “My niece Allura was on the last voyage sent to Lance’s domain. She too is a magic wielder, but has not returned. Under Lance’s power I am most afraid of what will come of her.”

“I see,” Shiro nods once more.

It isn’t enough for Coran, however. He clings tight to the drapes of Shiro’s cape in distress. In a tone closer to begging, he repeats his request.

“Captain Shirogane, I need to be on this crew for your next voyage out. I cannot bear to think of the way Lance might be abusing her magic, if she is even still alive. I will not let myself think of any worse fate that may be awaiting her.”

“Coran. If I may, I-“

“Captain! Please!” He runs his fingers over his full mustache, dragging them across his mouth, then meeting at his chin. “I cook. There’s this goo we magicians like to make. It’s never gotten standing ovations when I’ve made it, but that can’t be helped.”

Stricken, Shiro lowers the hand he’s had raised to High Captain Holt’s door. “Sir… Sir are you-“

“I can help you navigate!” Coran snaps his fingers. “They say I’m one with the stars at this point, what with being in astrology and all that. I’m not just a passenger, Captain Shirogane. I can do a great deal of service for you.”

“Stop, Coran.” Shiro holds out a hand. He takes a deep breath. “I can tell that your niece, Allura, she means a lot to you.” He mutters, “I can also tell you’re not leaving without a yes.” He looks Coran in the eye and gives all the honesty in his heart he’s able to. “Truthfully, I can’t tell you how dangerous this mission is going to be. When or if we find your niece, we will need to prioritize Lance over her. I need everyone to be fully prepared for anything.”

“Aye, aye Captain!” Coran snaps himself into a sloppy salute.

“Good.”

Shiro raises his knuckles to knock on Holt’s door, then turns his head to dismiss Coran. He opens his mouth, but his voice draws short. The man’s skills fully connect with Shiro’s recollection.

“You say you can navigate?”

Coran nods. “Aye. People have also said I make a great mechanic. _Coranic_ is the name that-“

“That's good. You’ll want to be there in the room while we plan our next voyage.” Shiro sucks in air through his teeth. “I hope you understand too, that if you are really deciding to come on this voyage, how discreet the nature of your passage will have to be. I have commands straight from his Majesty. If he were to know a civilian boarded the ship-“

Coran’s face is untroubled. “Worry yourself not about that. ‘Discretion’ is my middle name. Actually it’s Hiero-“

Shiro coughs.

“Well anyway. Besides Captain,” he makes a grand gesture to himself. “I’m not a civilian. I’m a _magician._ Which civilian do you know that can do this-“ quickly he reaches into a pocket of his hip-satchel. His fingers coat with fine powder, sprinkles some in his mouth, then disappears from sight.

Shirogane has known those with the gift of magic to be wily, but never like this. He isn’t quite sure what to make of the silence; whether Coran has teleported or simply cloaked himself. Shiro gives the moment a little longer to prove either hypothesis.

From the void Coran’s presence left, a soft chuckling bubbles up. Then a snicker. Shiro can see the hall to his left and to his right, but nothing beside him from where he hears the sound.

“You can hear me, can’t you Captain Shirogane? But you cannot see me. My magic can do many things. It will be very advantageous for your crew to have me aboard.”

“Indeed,” Shiro grins. He’s guessing he’s going to have to wait for the man’s spell to wear off, but no matter. He still has the other men he needs to gather in his team. Smoothly he dismisses Coran.

Captain Shirogane deliberately doesn’t think about all the time he’s spent listening to Coran’s beseeching. Instead he gently shoos him away, telling him to meet back at the planning room. When he crosses into High Captain Holt’s office, he hears faint laughter.

“Sir,” Shiro sighs. “How much of that did you hear?”

Holt lowers his hand from his mouth. His voice is laced with a smile. “Enough to hear you have new orders. And that you have an extra crew member to account for. Well done Shiro, for holding out against Coran for as long as you did.”

“Sir?”

Samuel Holt laughs. “His magic makes him popular to King Koran. So does Allura’s magic, for that matter. Coran’s known among the admirals for his eccentricities.”

“I see.”

It’s a curious thing. If Coran has talked with the admirals and King so often, why wouldn’t Shiro recognize him? He must have seen him before. Perhaps it was magic.

“But speaking of your orders, Shirogane” Holt diverts. “I’d be delighted to be your second mate. I thank you for considering me.”

Shirogane is ever so glad for lessons in deference and tact. “Actually, sir. I was hoping you’d accept being Third. I’m to ask High Captain Iverson as my Second to watch over the crew. I need you to watch over him.”

At this, Holt laughs out loud. His laughter is deep, choppy and bordering absurd. “Consider it done, Captain. I’ll report to the planning room post haste.”

“Thank you, sir.”

No arbitrary or needy persons approach him when he fetches Iverson. He appreciates his momentary, fleeting reprieve for simplicity. He takes it in spades. When he reports to Commander Iverson his commands, he acquiesces with a gruff grunt. With that, all of Shiro’s errands are complete. He may finally get to work.

The sailors and the captains stand restlessly when Shiro arrives to the planning room, himself. Their energy is like electricity that has yet to be released; static and unpredictable. Captain Shirogane is sure his words will do little to relieve the pressure.

“Thank you all for coming so quickly.” He glances to Coran, “Our additional crew member comes as a surprise to us all,” then back to his crew, “but as a magic-wielder, Coran isserviceable in both astrology and engineering.”

“Astrolo-gy? On a ship? Are you mad, Shirogane? How the devil is astrology going to help on a damn ship?”

“The stars, Sir Iverson-“ Coran explains kindly, “tell me where to go.”

“They ‘tell you where to go’, huh.”

Swiftly, Shiro knows to diffuse them both. “We’ll all have time for questions later. Right now we all need to focus, cooperate, and make every moment count. Every minute spent is another moment in Lance’s favor.”

Swiftly, Shiro’s company is silenced. He presumes to take the floor.

“Now because we are a small team and lack access to a fleet, we need to act with intelligence. Resourcefulness is the main idea. Resourcefulness and… and magic. I am quickly becoming more and more grateful to Coran’s assistance.”

One of the sailors quip, “Do we even get a battleship?”

The Captain shakes his head. “No. I’m sure not. Even if I were allowed one for this mission, I wouldn’t want one. We need all the stealth and surprise we can get on our side.”

“So…” another drawls. “What do we get? How are we going about this? Are each of us putting on our slip seal armor and diving?”

“Shirogane, we’re not taking a damn rowboat.”

“You will agree, a rowboat will beat the slip seal suits where subtlety is concerned.”

“But then how would we communicate with each other?”

“There has got to be a better way.”

“Hmm.”

“ _Enough._ ” Shiro cuts into their bickering as he is reminded that genius comes with a price.

He walks around the darkened room, shuffling around metal furniture and sifting through paper. Shiro clears the table his crew is gathered around, then places colored blocks near his hands. He lifts the red one, and they all observe. It clacks against the hard wood when he sets it in front of him.

“We sail on a cutter.”

“Captain-“

“With all due respect High Captain Iverson, anything bigger would be suspect. Anything smaller looks too much like there’s something we need to hide. Which there is.”

At that, Iverson visibly bristles and deflates simultaneously.

“So what are you saying, Shirogane?”

“I’m saying we need to be clever. We need to hold our cards until the very last second. We will sail near Lance’s lair on an unassuming boat. We keep arms to a minimum; as a matter of fact, none of us will cary firearms.”

“No guns?”

“No guns, sailor. No lasers.” He stares at her, then to the rest of them one by one. “Not a single one.”

“We’ll best him with the power of teamwork and cooperation. Is that what you’re saying, Captain?”

“If you weren’t so smart sailor, I’d be less disinclined to agree.” Shirogane fights the temptation to rub his temples. “What I’m saying is that we’re going to take every advantage we can get. Smaller vessel. Weapons downscaled. I’d go so far as to say I want everyone out of uniform.”

“What about the slip seal suits? Do we go without those, too?”

“No, you’re right.” Shiro creases his brows. “Where your civilian clothes overtop your slip uniforms.”

“That way we can conceal more equipment underneath.”

Now, this time, the Captain’s smile is genuine and proud. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

All too soon, Iverson crushes the momentum he’d been building with his crew mates with a sour word. “I’m still not wrapping my head around your wanting to sail in completely defenseless. No guns? Where is all your sense, Shirogane?

Patience has never been Shiro’s greatest virtue. He exercises it most on Iverson. Now, it is thin and terse when he affirms, “we would not be defenseless, Sir.” He asserts his case. “Each one of us would be good to remember that Lance is a _god._ How is he to be defeated by guns of mortal hands? With weapons forged by mortal fire? We’re not fighting fire with fire, here. We’re facing magic. That means we have to fight magic with _magic._ ”

“Thankfully we have someone who knows all about that now, right.”

To be perfectly frank, Shiro’s getting tired of his crew mate’s lip. He knows if he keeps them much longer it’s just going to cause more animosity. He tries to conclude their meeting quickly.

“It seems we’ll be drawing on Coran’s resources much more than I though.”

“So how do you propose we apprehend Lance with magic exclusively?” High Captain Holt asks.

Shiro thinks a moment before he responds. “I propose we sail in under the cover of night. Cowards though it might make us, it could be our only chance to trap him.”

“Our only chance at success,” Iverson admits.

“For there is no other option.” The knights agree.

Quickly they discuss necessary supplies they need, detailed times and the vessel they’ll use. Each crew member agrees upon their role, and decide to embark in five days. The planning adjourns and they all dismiss. After a quick salute, Shiro’s crew runs to their next stations and leave him with a choice.

Absolutely, Shirogane can choose to follow his own orders. He can wait for the end of the week, then dispatch with his team in united vision. He can wait. He can affirm his patience. He can, and he may.

Or he can and may _not_.

Captain Shirogane may say enough of his patience, enough of the wait. Shiro can think ofall the lives lost, all the families torn and ask why anyone should wait a moment longer.

One option seems considerably more selfish than the other, but in the end, it is his choice. Shiro must choose the path to success.

 

—

 

High Captain Holt was the only one Shiro trusted enough to tell the message. Holt knew him enough to know better than to restrain him, but always pointed him in the right direction.

“Are you sure you want to do this, son?” He asked hesitantly.

“I feel like I need to do this,” earnestly Shiro answered.

“Then I know I cannot stop you.” Holt’s smile was tired. Thin. Knowing. “But I urge you to think of the rest of your team. Think of the duty you were given. What of Iverson? And Coran, he’s depending very much on you. So are the rest of your crew mates.”

Shiro shakes his head. “I need you to tell them where I have gone, Sir. I apologize for putting this on you, but-“ then he bites his tongue. Shiro cannot ask for that particular favor; for Holt to tell his team where he had gone should he not return. Shiro will return, and he will return victorious. He amends his favor. “But I also will need you to tell them when I return. If after 3weeks I have not sailed back to the dock, proceed with the mission without me. For the safety, hope and future of Terra I must go. And I must go alone. I hope you understand.”

“I do. Or, I will try to.” Holt slaps Shiro on his back, nudging him towards the door. “But Iverson will not. Go before he catches word of your plan. Pray you return unharmed before the King hears word, as well.”

“Thank you, Sir.” He nods briskly to his superior, then walks away before another moment does.

Two days before his team’s scheduled sailing to apprehend Lance, Shiro embarks in their stead. Armed with potions in every hidden pocket, spells nearly spilling over the corners of his satchel and humbling himself to the oldest of his trousers and cloaks, Shiro is assured there’s not a peril for which he did not prepare. He makes it within his conscious thought that he’s prepared enough to assure his safe return.

The naval dock isn’t empty in the early morning dawn, but not nearly as hectic as the withering afternoon. The two days before Shiro was supposed to leave, he pats himself down again after he leaves Holt’s quarters. He gives minute nods to knights and captains as they pass. Once they do, he sets to work in preparing his own vessel for departure. He packs it full with rations overabundant, clothing and orbs he’ll need for air helmets.

By now, goodbyes are not too sentimental for Captain Shirogane. Although, he doesn’t regret not giving one to his crew. It’s for their own good and Terra’s that he’s going before. In his head he knows he really should wait, but his passion has outweighed and overrun his logic. It has made him forget his receding patience. He reasons that if fleets and brigs before him have not won, then a new tactic must be employed.

In truth, Shiro isn’t commissioning himself to seek and seize Lance. With what Shiro’s planning, he’ll be surprised if he even comes into contact with him at all. For this personal venture, all Shiro wants to do is learn. He’s done with hearing second-hand accounts from proud men and self-seeking women. The few books written about Lance are thin, angry and slap-dash at best. They write him as only the terror he’s caused, not the god that he is. While Shiro knows Lance’s doings are terrible and many, he still wants to let Lance plead his own case. For this mission, Shiro sails to learn.

That is why when he unties the ropes binding him to the dock with his natural and Altean arm, the most dangerous weapon he keeps on his person is an enchanted diving dagger. (While his Altean appendage is charmed, its employment will hopefully not be necessary.)

The previous day he approached Coran wanting to know protection spells and other incantations he might need to ensure safe passage under the waves. The magician said he’d “do him one better”. Eagerly Coran had returned with pots of dusty powder, then sat them both down. Meticulously, slowly, archaically, Coran painted runes across Shiro’s arms and back. He promised they’d help protect Shiro from the dangers below. That they helped channel the moon and the wave’s harmony with him.

It all felt beyond his understanding, but now as he unravels his mast and sets into the waters, it’s like he can feel the rippling tides course under his skin. If he reached under his tunic, he would feel the runes’ warming glow.

The shifting waters take the Captain from the dock out to shore. Then from the shore, he’s pulled to the sea’s open waters. The transition is both gradual and immediate. It’s as though one moment he’d been walking from Holt’s quarters, and the next, he’s sitting in the midst of the endless blue of sky and water. Or rather it would, had not the sun’s passing forsaken the time.

Out in the lawless waters, Shiro knows he is tempting fate. With only the runes humming across his body and the potions secured around his hips, the man has never felt more vulnerable. It could be that on a ship this small, he feels the waves more acutely. It could be that by hovering so close to the water’s surface, he can smell the salt more distinctly. He wishes he can hear Lance more sharply.

When he has sailed to the open waters, where the blue stretches to all directions endless, cloudless; where the blue threatens to overwhelm and _blue_ is the only thing he sees- he knows this separated from populace, no one will be able to hear his screams.

Bearing that in mind he pulls out an air helmet orb and wraps the magic over his head. He lowers his little vessel’s anchor for however much good it can do, then slips into the cold waves without another thought.

Cold are the tumultuous waves that wrap Shiro under. Cold, and thick like sludge does the water feel as it crowds over him, sucking him to the sea floor. Colder still does he keep his reason, his anger, his passion. Captain Shirogane does not seek his vengeance now, just the eradication of his ignorance.

Cold and dark are the creatures Shiro dreads that circle beneath.

The pale water is lightened by the accosting sun above. Its rays pierce into the surface of the water, so Shiro doesn’t have to waste another spell simply wandering around.

_Reconnaissance_ , his mission is. For right now the semantics are lost to him, and he couldn’t care less.

The only thing he sees to the right and left of his periphery are groupings and groupings of seaweed. He sees cliffs of sand gently caressed by the saltwater, but not enough to misplace their grains. The sun’s light streaks glow beneath, the haunting emptiness illuminated more. Shiro sees empty water. Amidst the blue shifting around and the green swaying slow, he expected schools or packs of life to make themselves known. They must be wandering the same, just like him. But they are not. Not as far as Shiro can tell. The emptiness prevails.

It is the water’s emptiness that makes him most suspicious. Had he felt hunted or stalked he would know to flee, but this unknown gives him little to prepare for. In the emptiness he is given no hints towards Lance’s inner lair, so he draws upon flashes of maps he’s memorized for this very occasion. The coldness seeps into the joints of his right arm and shakes it away. He dives deeper.

Shiro doesn’t know how long he’s been swimming. He’s too deep under the water, he doesn’t want to waste time swimming back to the surface to track the sun. Neither does he exert overwhelming energy in his arms or legs, choosing to let himself float.

It must be the beginning of the second hour when he finally feels another presence. He doesn’t hear any echos or swishes near him. He feels the stuttering vibrations in the water. Shiro treads in place. Then, the creatures _rush_ him.

Two things Shiro sees as he turns himself around. The first being the shocking cyan of the sharks’ eyes. _Lance’s minions,_ Shiro knows. The second thing Shiro notices are the rows and rows of yellow teeth in an opened, red jaw. They open straight towards him.

Having no time for a spell, Shiro evades. He quickly exhales, then holds his body like a pin to drop beneath them. He kicks his legs with all his might. He pulls his weight with all his strength. Not daring to look behind him, Shiro darts away from the pursuing sharks as fluidly as he can, hoping to afford just enough distance to swallow some invisibility powder.

The sharks pursue.

Shirogane cannot dare to out-swim a creature whose home is the very water he violates. His feet nearly slip into the open jaws of the reef sharks. Lance doesn’t show his face, but his influence is all around Shiro as his sharks wind around. The Captain knows better than to think they’re hungry for Terranian blood, but all the same, they look… hungry.

In his blind, silent panic, Shiro doesn’t notice the direction the sharks have been leading him; back to his own vessel. He doesn’t see the upward arch they’ve been pushing him. All he feels and all he sees is his pumping heart against white, bubbling water. His hands grow sore from the waves he has to distort. All he sees is the thin opportunity to make his final escape.

Desperate is his reach to his satchel, reaching into an arbitrary pot and praying against all hope it’s the magic for which he seeks. Shiro dips two fingers in. Before the salty water can dissolve it, he lets the powder absorb on his tongue. Never does he stop swimming for a second. But then, before his shock can even enter his mind, the thrashing of tails ceases behind him. Shiro dares to turn around, slowly. He bobs in place. The sharks circle around the space he last occupied, wondering where he’d disappeared.

Shiro knows the sharks aren’t stupid. They can smell him, his very fear floating towards them. They just cannot see him. Shiro has not a moment to lose. He dares a thorough glance into his satchel, swallows homing powder to return to his vessel, then rows away as swiftly as he can.

 

—

 

The royal dock is all a frenzy when he returns.He would have thought for a royal naval Captain his return would have been more auspicious, but not a single felicity is spared him. Third Mate Holt is the kindest face when he secures his anchor, but even then, Shiro wouldn’t say his face is that of kindness. High Captain Iverson and the rest of Shirogane’s crew are pointedly scowling. Still, he cannot find the remorse or contrition from within him.

“Hello, crew.” He nods quickly to them. “Debriefing in 10.” Shiro privately delights in their aghast faces when he strides past. “Dismissed.”

10 minutes is only just enough time for Shiro to pace to his quarters, change out of his diving uniform, then walk to the planning room. It’s the only time he’ll allow for himself to let his mind spiral. When 10 minutes conclude, Shiro knows his mind must be resolute.

_It’s not time to search and to learn._ His steps back to the planning room are heavy and echoing. _It is time to capture and apprehend._

Within 10 minutes, Shiro makes a new plan to defeat Lance once and for all.


	2. The High Tide and the Low Road

 

The berating Captain Shirogane receives for disobeying King Kolivan’s orders is… soft to what he would have expected. Not once does the King raise his voice. Not once does a sly word leave the King’s mouth. His words are straightforward and frank. Unfiltered.

“I’m disappointed, Shiro.” He says. “Though perhaps, not for reasons you most assume.”

“Your Majesty?” Shiro didn’t expect the King to harbor disappointment. He assumed to be on the ugly side of wrath. He assumed anger. He deserved for Kolivan to be livid with him, for dismissing orders as sensitive and significant as he had.

“That you would think so little of yourself, your life, to risk sending yourself. That you think so little of your crew mates. Tell me Captain, do you think that little of me?”

“Your majesty.” Shiro bows his head low. “It is my honor and sworn duty to serve and protect you. To protect this kingdom.”

“And you think this private mission of yours met either effect?”

Now, Shiro thinks. Did he really, truthfully, learn anything on his diving mission to Lance’s waters? He hadn’t even seen Lance. The disgrace hangs heavy over Shiro’s head and tongue. He can hardly speak.

“My lord I-“

“Will carry out my orders. Properly, this time. You will take your crew and find Lance. Capture him, apprehend him. Whatever you must. This time,” Kolivan’s eyes and face and voice are ungracefully severe, “you will take your crew and defeat Lance and protect the kingdom. You will do this, and you will not return until you have.”

Shiro does not hesitate. “Yes, your Majesty.” He will not fail his king again.

Again, Shirogane rounds his sailors and mates to the planning room. He affirms their planone last time, then sends them off to make final preparations.

They’re only about a month behind their original schedule, but Shiro can still rest fully at night knowing no more lives have been reported lost. The sea must be growing quieter. It must know something above seeks to rock the tides of change. The sea, with all its shifting waters and merciless creatures, must be listening in.

The day before their departure, Captain Shirogane has everyone sit down before Coran. He asks the magician to paint the same runes he wears over their arms and backs. He has Coran say a prayer to the stars before they set sail.

One last time, third Mate Holt reminds Shiro to bear all wisdom. He reminds him to keep all sense and sensibility about him. Holt reminds Shiro to remember himself.

One last time, second Mate Iverson tells Shiro to hold tight to all the training now rote in his mind and body. To show no hesitation, to keep all control. Iverson makes Shiro handle himself as the royal Captain his fate has brought him to.

Shiro’s fate is not to be a gentle one. Of this, he needs no reminding or foretelling.

As the sun is cloaked by Terra’s horizon on the mountains, Shirogane stands before his crew. All of them strapped up in their slip suits, draped with belted robes overtop. The discrepancy between their dress and their faces and the sky refuse to sit well in Shiro’s mind. Yet still he must stand before them, he in his own suit. He draped with linen and roped at the waist; his tunic is loose though his chest is tight and his arm is irritating. He stands before them, knowing he alone is the active catalyst to send them to twilight uncertainty. The uncertainty is for what he frets the most.

The setting sun is wavering and melting behind the mountain peaks. Their cutter bobs lazily in its anchored place in the dockyard. All around, the chilling air weaves under and over their robes.

Already, the water feels electric.

At once, Shiro’s crew sets sail.

Under the cover of darkened evening waters, Shiro hopes to make his hunt. Amidst the chaos, near the far shores where the lithe sharks feed, his crew will slip in. The fray of flaying fish will cover their splashes. The letting and diffusing of blood should cover their sent. Ignored by the sharks’ hunger, Captain Shirogane’s crew will stalk them back to where Lance resides.

Shiro is reluctant to call it Lance’s inner lair, but, the name is unfortunately apt. His sailors make idle chat about it as they sail.

“What do you think his lair is like?”

One of the women supposes, "I bet he curls up in a massive sea shell, with all his drowned skulls as trophies strung everywhere.”

Another contradicts. “Too clichéd. He’s a _shark_ god, isn’t he? I bet he always stays awake, prowling at all hours of the day. Burying himself under the sand. Never sleeping. Always hunting.”

“But doesn’t he also take the shape of a man?” says another. “What if his lair is like an underwater castle. If he’s a god, it should be beautiful. Huge. Resplendent. Under the sea he should have all the room he wants for a kingdom of his own.”

Iverson, Holt and Shirogane stay silent as the sailors presume Lance’s divine dwelling. The more Shiro listens, the more he realizes just how blindly he’s asking his team to dive. No one in Terra has any knowledge of how Lance’s lair looks. No one knows which form he most often takes. No one knows the extent of his divinity, the reach of his magic. Shiro himself scarcely knows what Lance looks like. All he knows is the glow of Lance’s enchanted familiars.

Shiro will have to make his elusive knowledge enough.

Above, the sun has flicked out its last ribbon of light. Around, the air is humid, crisp, and filled with the hushed voices of Shiro’s crew. Below, sea waves gently rock the cutter. Like the calmed pulse of a dormant heartbeat, the waves swell up, then convex under the boat. Shirogane can hardly see beyond the white foam on the water’s surface. The teeming shore lies just ahead. He knows it is time to dive in.

Swift and silent, Shiro gestures with his hand. None bother to anchor the ship, simply relying on their homing powder pots to return them after their mission is complete. One by one they slip over the edge into the depths. The sharks’ feeding is the only distortion in the night’s dawning slumber.

Shiro cannot hear an echo in the air. He can feel the magic thick in the water.

Coran had been commissioned to make eye-wear to break through the water’s black. After Shiro’s crew slips into the water they slide their eye masks over their heads. Their eyes glow gold and look to the Captain for the next instruction. He lets the waves wash around him for a moment. He listens. Then another. He waits. Then, he holds up a hand. They swim on.

Predators they have now become, wasting not a single movement. Inch by inch they creep closer. The water warms with the sharks’ ravenous feast. Shiro could have probably smelled the brine of the sea had he not smelled the iron in the water.

Before he lets them continue any farther, he swims ahead to be sure they hold Lance’s enchanted glow. Out of the corner of one’s eyes, he sees the bright ring of light travel through the water. It illuminates the water before him, and the shark’s bloodied teeth. Its eyes are consumed by insatiable hunger. No other blue has Shiro seen before like it. The crew has the go-ahead to approach.

The magic runes on their skin hums stronger and stronger. Like the water flowing around them, gravity and harmony flow within them. Their focus is sharp and singular, yet aware on all sides. Still and silent they bob in the water until the flurry subsides.

Then, the sharks finally have their fill. Their bodies bump into one another as they retreat. Shiro’s crew is entirely ignored. They may finally follow the sharks home.

Like a swarming plague or ambling story that needs to worsen before it resolves, the path Lance’s sharks lead Shiro gets darker. Soon, he will hope, that this will be the darkest before the light.With the school of sharks all collected together, they must not feel the breaks in the waves Shiro’s team causes. They mustn’t. They cannot.

The Captain looks from his narrow gaze for just a second. He looks up and around, but it takes him a moment to grasp his perception. He hadn’t realized just how dark it had gotten. Just how dark the waters could get. Without the dimming glowing gold of his team’s eye protection, he couldn’t see his own nose on his face. He looks down to his hands, and realizes he cannot see it in front of him. Shiro wonders how long it has been this way.

The waters are dark. The waters are silent. Far too silent.

On account of his first solitary mission, Shiro feels as though he should have seen the next moment coming.

All at once, his team is rushed. In the blink of an eye, Lance’s enchanted cyan glow points from the water outward, to facing them. If it can be so, their eyes look more dilated and ravaging than when they had fed.

Ah, but now they are hunting.

The whole school of sharks come charging. Their jaws open wide. Their teeth are still dripping and stained from their meal.

The humans scatter.

Holt and Iverson push themselves up. The sailors all drop deeper into the water, while Shirogane turns to swim the opposite way. He doesn’t want to lose his team, but he has no choice. Shiro’s mates and sailors scatter in the water. He forces the confidence to himself that he will see them back on the cutter.

Yet as his legs kick heavy and desperate against the water, he can feel the spreading staining warmth around him.

_The water warming…?_

Then Shiro stops. His muscles lock up. He knows.

Too quick were the sharks to even permit a scream from Shiro’s crew. Too slow were the unfortunate mortals, that they couldn’t again reach the surface.

Shirogane doesn’t dare look behind him. His friends are beyond saving.

For the sake of himself, for the sake of the mission, for the sake of the kingdom he pushes his body on. Straining, struggling, Shiro pushes and pulls himself through the water just for a chance to reach for his homing powder. He lacks the audacity to reach for his invisibility powder. (However tempting it is to take.)

Deftly Shiro swims on. He doesn’t dare look behind him. He doesn’t dare think of the predators hunting after him. How they hunger for the breaking of his body.

Morbidly, Shiro thinks he can feel the fibers of his limbs tearing thinner. Or perhaps his Altean arm is eroding with the sea’s torrenting wash over him.

With every breath, Lance’s servants surge closer. The longer Shiro evades, the more he realizes… They aren’t hunting him. The shark’s pace is fast, ruthless even. But once, just one glance does Shiro steal out the corner of his eyes. He looks to the gaze of the closest shark to him, and its eyes are not so hungry. Its wide jaw isn’t open to devour its vengeance. As Shiro swims on, he thinks.

_Did that shark look… was it_ bored _?_

For Shiro alone, these sharks do not seem hungry for his soul. Instead, he guides them back up to the surface of the water. In the distance under the star-spattered sky, Shiro’s cutter bobs lazily. As though it were just a passive witness to a slaughter. It sits innocent as though Shiro will not have to guide it home with his crew’s blood on his hands.

Like a threat or a final warning, the sea couriers circle once below Shiro’s feet. Then, they slip away.

Shiro leaves his air helmet on to catch his breath. Out of body, like a dream, the last ten minutes replays before his eyes like shocking memories.

The red of ribbony blood, tinted by the supernatural glow of Lance’s divinity. The thundering of Shiro’s heartbeat. He could feel its pulse through his whole body. Then, the complacent look of the one shark. Leaving Shiro alone to bear his burdens.

Completely alone in the water.

Until, a head breaches from the depths. A voice breaks into the silence.

“Captain Shirogane! You are alright! I was sure you had been taken with the rest!”

“Coran.” Between the man’s magic and empathetic advantages, Shiro is not surprised he was able to make it out. He lets out a deep sigh. “Coran, you’re here. You made it.”

“I sure did!” Coran’s excitement must come from a place of misplaced adrenaline. It must. “While everyone was in the fray, I made my quick escape. I pinched a bit of this,” he gestures to a pouch, “and made my tactical retreat. There needed to be at least one of us to live to tell the tale, ‘eh?”

However true that may be, this mission is bigger than a bedtime story. He relays this to Coran, which sobers them both up enough so their whole transport home is silent. In the silence, Captain Shirogane thinks of all the routes he can take to ascertain the proceedings of the evening. To explain why they’ve returned home without Lance in tow. (Without his crown in a locked chest.)

Shiro, during the whole sail home, thinks of King Kolivan’s disappointment. Undoubtedly he will be burning with wrath so thick, he will be rendered speechless. Shiro thinks of all the expressions his King will have to bear on his account. He thinks of the way he has failed Terra again.

Suddenly his thoughts shift. He looks down into the guileless waters with vicious creatures stalking beneath. Shiro wonders just how many sharks were chasing behind him. He wonders if that number decreased the farther he swam. He wonders why he was able to swim for as long as he had. Why he himself didn’t drown with the rest of his tortured friends.

Or…

Or perhaps this is Lance’s personal torture to him. Lance must have known they were infesting his waters. He must have. He knows their trespassing, and this is Shiro’s punishment. Shiro knew Lance spared no mercy, no grace, but he didn’t think his cruelty would cut this deep.

_Maybe this is what I get for disturbing divinity._

It would have taken an armada to take Lance down.

Shirogane failed, and Lance knows that he’ll always have his friends’ blood washing over him to remind him.

A voice, when the royal dockyard finally comes into view, jars him from his thoughts.

“You’ve been thinking pretty hard there, Captain?”

It’s Coran. Of course. Uplifting his voice always is. It brings Shiro down as he was working himself up.

“I have.” Shiro shortly replies.

“About?”

The Captain squeezes his eyes shut. “About how I’m going to explain this all to the King. About the mission, failed yet again. What am I going to tell to the sailors’ families, Coran? What about the other captains? This mission rests on my shoulders alone. I wouldn’t blame them for finding it suspect that I alone have returned.”

“My boy.” Coran rests a worn hand on Shiro’s shoulder. His palm is marked with smooth callouses, but his eyes are sharp and clear. “You did your best. There is nothing more you can do. We have suffered a great loss tonight, yes. But you,” he points to Shiro’s chest, over where his weary heart beats. “You are not defeated. Because you live, you have the next chance to make it right. You must take it, Captain Shirogane.”

Another chance to make it right? All Shire sees is another chance to let himself fail.

The churning doubts and poisons are too thick in Shiro’s head. The sun is rising on his anger, but he and the magician still have not lowered their anchor. All the Captain wants to do is sleep. All he says to Coran is,

“Please. Call me Shiro.”

The man smiles. “Shiro. This isn’t the end. I mean that in the best way.”

—

 

Shiro’s return brings forth the wrath from the King he’s been expecting. The Captain walks to Kolivan’s quarters, alive in one piece. He will sleep fitfully with the knowledge that his crew mates are not.

Lance still haunts Terranian waters. His threat is present, and his ichor must be ignited like never before. So too is Kolivan’s.

King Kolivan keeps a level head. Seldom has he ever raised his voice outside of necessity. Never has he raised a hand to those who serve him. Never has he caused danger to himself or to others in the height of his anger. But as Shirogane relays the proceeding of the night to him, his radiating ire could be enough to kill. White-hot like lightening, the frustration in his eyes torrents. Shiro doesn’t know if he’s man enough to weather the storm.

Kolivan may be a cold king. He may be stoic and he may be blunt. He may be harsh, but Kolivan is not a cruel king. In his brevity, he spares Shiro mercy.

“You understand what this means, yes Captain?”

Shiro briskly nods. “Another opportunity to make it right, your Majesty.”

His earnestness is almost enough to pause Kolivan’s blinding rage. The King knows better than to fan his own flames, however. He plainly replies to Shiro,

“Yes.”

“I already have a plan, your Majesty. I would see that I have it fulfilled before the end of next week. I hate to be so presumptuous to you, but with or without your orders, I am going to see it through.”

In the scant few days upon Shiro’s return, he already has another plan to apprehend Lance? Kolivan isn’t disbelieving, but aghast at Shiro’s untempered strength of will.

“You would.” Kolivan deliberately leaves his tone vague.

“I will.” Shiro asserts. “Your Majesty, I am now making it my personal quest that I will find Lance and take him down. It is on my honor that he will be a danger to Terra no more. With each failed plan, there will be another mission to achieve success. I again apologize for my obstinance, but when I say this I don’t ask for your permission or granting. I only wanted to make you aware.”

It is now Shiro’s personal duty and responsibility to kill Lance. He should hope he knows what he’s getting into.

Strongly against his better judgement, Kolivan doesn’t bother to give Shirogane formal orders. He only says to report back after the mission and assure his safe return. Captain Shirogane, like First Admiral Antok, Low Admiral Thace and Duke Keith in line for the Galra throne, is indispensable. Invaluable. The King knows that while Shiro lives, there is hope still in Terra’s hands.

 

—

 

Armadas and fleets reigning down against Lance and his subordinates have only brought destruction. Shiro figures the more force brought, the more grief produced. He knows it was wise not to have been permitted a battleship for his first mission. Captain Shirogane’s crew was scaled down unfathomably, the blood was lessened, yet still there was too much spilled. For Shiro’s next plan, he sails alone.

As Coran repaints the runes over Shiro, he speaks his plan aloud.

“If you hadn’t disappeared so quickly, I’m sure the sharks would have gotten you too, Coran. The sharks, Lance’s sharks- _Lance_ \- would not see me dead. Easily they could have bitten into me or dragged me under. Lance is singling me out.” He turns his head over his shoulder. “I know it. But I don’t know why.”

Coran pauses his painting to shrug. “Who knows? I won’t think to presume I know the incentives of a god. Neither should you work yourself up about it either, Shiro. It won’t do you any good.”

The Captain knows that in all his worrying he cannot another minute buy. With all his efforts, he cannot help but worry. He can feel it betraying him and working against him. If he cannot stop his frets, he will turn them into something else.

He turns it into drive. Drive, passion and righteousness. These are the things that wake him up and keep him sustained.

Shiro thanks Coran for his refreshed runes, and for the new spells and potions he’s been outfitted with. He thanks Coran, but it is redundant; Shiro will not be taking them with him. For this next mission, Captain Shirogane will be going completely unarmed, completely alone.

 

—

 

This time when Shiro sails, he sets out in the bright light of day. The high sun’s peak doesn’t make the water any less daunting or vast.

Shiro takes the sea for what it is. He doesn’t let himself feel big or small as he voyages the open waters. With little more than a rowboat, he knows his justice will be enough.

When he reaches the space that fishermen’s tales and knights’ records have rumored of, Shiro slips out of his boat. Each time like the first, as he slips into the water, he is chilled and enveloped and weightless. His body feels lighter but his limbs feel heavier. His arm feels even more hollow. The sun is warm over him, but its light is diffused. Terra’s blue waters curl over him and between his legs. Shiro lets himself sink a bit, as the waves rustle through his hair before he wraps on his air helmet. Then he drifts.

In the distance he sees a fish. Lazily it swims along. Shiro pulls himself closer, and the more he sees the more he thinks this fish is not lazy but dazed. Suddenly, Shiro no longer drifts. He darts ahead.

Zipped in just his slip seal suit, armed only with his wit, Captain Shirogane follows the ambling creature’s every move. When he swims right up next to it, its eyes glow brighter blue than even the shark’s. Deep must its entrancing be. Shiro knows Lance must be close.

As he swims, he can feel the impatience heating his blood. He cannot rush the fish to go to Lance’s lair, nor can he swim ahead in the right direction. Tethered and achingly slow he must follow.

_I don’t know why I’m feeling so rushed._ The Captain tries to reason. _There are no other lives at stake but mine. Still, the sooner I kill Lance the better._ In this of course, he will succeed. Only success, for there is no other option.

On and on through the endless blue they travel. To occupy his mind, Shiro thinks of back-up plans for every independently variable danger he knows. Still, he swims on. He thinks of Holt’s words of caution. Then of Iverson’s words of pride. He thinks of their untimely fate and unfortunate demise. The rest of Shiro’s crew was so young and held so much potential, yet they too were gone too soon. Still, he swims on. For so long does he swim that he resorts to singing songs in his head. His desperation knows no bounds.

Then, at last when he feels he cannot fight his effervescing patience any longer, the fish stops. The glow in its eyes dims. Shiro looks from the open water to its face, then to the direction where its gaze is held.

Then, he stops.

Like the dawn emerging from a heavy pewter fog, a kingdom stands proud and ancient before his eyes. The fish swims on from beside him, but he remains in place to capture the scene.

Galley after clipper after schooner have all sunk here. The browns and blacks of their wood are paved over with barnacles and seaweed. Ship masts are repurposed for castle flags. Schools of fish swim in and out of hollowed sections between the holds. The rotting wood falls into and supports one another; so Shiro can still see the ships’ frames, but that’s the only original integrity that remains due to repurposing. Sunken statues litter the lawn to the kingdom’s doors.

With the wood being as dark and heavy as it is, the castle is more like a fortress in its immensity.It _would_ be _,_ had not the old ships’ wood and the stolen, silent statues been quite visibly crackling with magic.

Everywhere Shiro can see, to the swaying tips of the flags to the moss on the keels, Lance’s cyan magic dances. It’s as frightening as it is beautiful. Shiro wonders if Lance is the same.

He puts an end to his mindless staring. Looking with direction, he searches for any clues as to even the direction where Lance’s inner lair might be. Would it be glowing brighter than the rest of the castle? Surely it can’t be where all the fish are migrating? Or, that could be exactly where.

Before Shiro can propel himself with another kick of his leg, he is viciously accosted.

By the column of his neck he is held up. On land he would be strangled and choking. Under the water, he is merely seized.

“Ahh. So you’re the one.”

A voice, velvet as it croons but ancient under the water’s echo, resonates all around Shiro’s consciousness. He feels it all over his body. The hand at his throat has given him just enough room to swallow.

“Which ‘one’ do you mean?” comes his bitter reply.

“Oh, you know. You.” The grip loosens just the little bit more. “You’re the one I’ve been waiting for.” The apprehender brings his lips right next to Shiro’s. He can feel the voice’s reverberations in his chest, down to his legs. “If I let you go, will you promise not to ‘poof’ yourself away from me?”

Shiro cannot make promises he won’t keep. He stays silent.

The voice grows sharp. “If I hold you any tighter will you promise not to scream?” The question seduces to pull Shiro under like the surging waters.

“My screaming would be redundant either way.” Shiro should know better than to give lip in such precarious positions, but he can’t help himself. “If I scream, there is no one to hear me.”

“No one but me.” The tone comes across chipper and brittle; a porcelain figure. Ready to be dropped.

Shiro fights against the tightening fingers. “And who are you?”

As soon as they tighten, the grip releases. Shiro steals all the distance he can from his assailant, then realizes a few things.

He realizes his mistake.

He realizes his impudence.

He realizes the beauty.

Before Captain Shirogane glows a mighty power, nearly as old as time itself. The man’s eyes flicker with color so vibrant, electricity seems to emit from his very veins. Wrapped around his torso are thick strands of seaweed, woven and knotted thick as leather. The blue from his eyes glow from his face and neck too, marking all over, traveling down to his arms and pelvis. His pelvis which… which leads to a shark tail tipped with black edges.

Shiro’s mistake, impudence and shock of beauty all begin and end with the creature before him.

“The name’s Lance.”

His slippery grin is dangerous and hungry. Somehow, this hunger threatens Shiro far more than the sharks’ ever could.

Really, Shirogane should have known better.

Lance, with his powerful, scarred shark tail, pushes himself over the measly distance Shiro tried putting between them. Never before has Shiro felt small in the water. Now, in Lance’s domain and under his grasp, Shiro feels himself quickly sinking far out of his depths.

The demigod pushes himself into Shirogane’s space. He encroaches so close, Shiro can feel his chest push against Lance’s on his inhales. Lance wraps his arms around Shiro’s neck, pulling them closer still so that not even the water can pass between them. His voice wraps around Shiro’s very soul.

“I’m going to have fun with you.”

Shiro knew it. He was being singled from amongst his men. “Why? Why is it me you’re after?”

Lance lazily drags a finger over the protrusions of Shiro’s suit. “Because you look delicious.”

The Captain doesn’t know whether to snarl, scoff or blush. Out of frustration, he closes his eyes instead.

“Oooh, someone can’t take a compliment. Not a problem. We’ll work on that.” Lance, with his golden toned skin, tilts Shiro’s head from side to side. “But it’s true, you know.” He wraps Shiro’s legs within his mighty tail as he says, “I just want to eat you, you look so good.”

At this, Shiro scoffs. “What do you _want_?”

“I just said-“

“You saw me. Your… people saw me and my crew. They came and slaughtered them all but yet they chose to let me go free. You chose to let me free, you chose to let me live. You could have chosen anyone else from my team. Anyone else on any of the other ships that have sailed across these shores- so why me?”

Lance’s tail tightens its hold but his grin sours. “You should quit talking while you’re still ahead.”

“I want to know what your intentions are.”

“So we’re courting now?” Lance snickers.

“I’m on a mission that does not entail winning your heart.”

“Hey, you got a map on you?” Shiro is scandalized, flummoxed when Lance’s hands grope over the swell of his backside. “Cause I could get lost in your eyes.”

“It seems your misplaced hands are getting lost as well. I encourage you to help them find a different route,” Shiro snarls.

“Well if not to _win my heart_ or gaze upon my divinely good looks, what did you come for?”

“I’m here to kill you.”

Lance’s face blanks so quickly, the tides seem to still with him. He looks long and deep for any air of jest from Shiro. He finds none. The god’s contempt grows. “I think you were hotter when you were quiet.” His tail loosens as the gills around his collar flare.

“What do you want with me,” Shiro still demands. “And why are you terrorizing my people!”

The tail around Shiro’s shins threaten to stop circulation, but the hand Lance lays on his chest his easy. Gentle, even.

“Terrorizing your people,” Lance repeats sardonically. “He’s funny, too.”

A heart-beat pulsing of light begins to purge from the hand on Shiro’s chest. Soft at first, but then the pulsing grows louder. The vibration grows thicker. The light turns brighter. Captain Shirogane looks down and up from Lance’s hand, dreading the worst.

“Lance-“ he punches out with panicked eyes. “Lance, Lance, Lance, wait-“

“Come back when you get some funnier lines, alright?”

Suddenly, the pulsing light _bursts_ in between them. The blue waves move so fast the glow is almost white. It swallows the man whole. Shiro closes his eyes tight against the oncoming pain.

His eyes remain closed but… the pain never comes. The pain never comes, but the dry air does. So slowly, trepidatiously, the Captain wrenches his eyes open. He can hardly believe what he sees.

All around, for miles and miles it must be, the baked sands of empty beach make his new ground. Instantly his haziness evaporates. He jumps to his feet.

Before, behind, and to the right of Shiro, planes of white-gold sand stretch on and on. The sky is empty too, excepting the spare sea bird. To his left, the sea waves languidly lap onto the shore. Lazy and quiet is the water, as though the previous encounter did not just transpire. As though Shiro hasn’t even met Lance.

But he has. Shiro has met Lance.

Shiro has met Lance.

Captain Shirogane has seen a god face to face.

“I met Lance.”

_And I lived._

Shiro keeps reliving the revelation over and over, only in different words. He doesn’t know whether to count himself lucky or downcast. Is he fortunate or cursed? As it is, Shiro would count himself cursed. Though Lance’s eyes were piercing, deep and sly, they seemed youthful in a timeless way. Though Lance’s skin was smooth, tan and rich, his tail scraped against Shiro’s uncovered legs as it wrapped around them.

Though Lance is beautiful, Shiro knows he will be haunted and teased by his words. Lance’s beauty and depth ends where it begins. They go no farther than a man is separated from his pride.

Overwhelmed, Shirogane has to take a moment to process all the things he has seen. He takes another moment longer to accept that he has survived to tell about it. When his moment is over he slaps his palms to his cheeks. When he finds his way off this beach, he must report quickly to Kolivan, for after these bewildering moments, he has not another moment to lose.


	3. The Thing that Perches

 

Coran is the first person to hear Shirogane’s unofficial report after he rests from his last mission.

“It was gorgeous, Coran. The castle- if I can even call it that- was all built up from sunken vessels. The wood was repurposed so they interconnected. It was huge. I think if I focused harder, I could have tasted the magic in the water.”

Next, Shiro bears his corrects to the pompous sailors’ tales.

“There are no heads on spikes you guys. His tail isn’t ten feet long. He doesn’t have daggers for teeth, and people aren’t blinded when they lay eyes on him.” He shrugs at their open-mouthed gapes. “At least I didn’t.”

Captain Shirogane reports to King Kolivan before the day is out.

“Mission two was a fail, sire.” He bows his head down low. “After a night’s rest I will make my next plan and sail out. I’m sorry to have once again return empty-handed.”

Kolivan turns to face Shiro with his hands still clasped behind his back. “As I’ve been hearing, it would not appear that way.”

Poorly concealed is Shiro’s shock. “Your Majesty?”

“There is word that you’ve met Lance. That you’ve seen him, and you live.” Kolivan takes a long look at Shiro’s form. “And yet as I live, you stand before me. How can this be?”

Kolivan’s tone is justified. Shiro knows the King is right to be suspicious. Every voyage to Lance’s waters has only led to devastation, so how is it that one man alone has had not once, but twice gifted mercy from him? Shiro wishes he could explain it, himself.

“I don’t know, sire. I had only just set eyes on his kingdom when he caught me.” _When he came on to me,_ the Captain bitterly chides. “We spoke,” _he considerably more than I_ , “then I found myself beached along the southern shore. That’s what happened.”

The King hums. More like a grunt with his innate aggression.

“Can you be sure this will happen again?”

“I’m sorry; my return or my speaking with Lance?”

“Your return,” Kolivan affirms. “This we cannot afford to lose.”

“I want to say ‘of course', but Lance is very unpredictable as we’ve very much seen. I don’t know if success-“

“This is not about success, Captain.” Shiro is reminded of the King’s first orders as he lays a hand on his shoulders. This hand, unlike the first, does not oppress. Kolivan’s grip is firm, but gentle. Gentle too, (as gentle as a man like Kolivan can be,) is the request in his eyes.

“Ah-“

“This is about you.” Kolivan closes his eyes. “Success is the goal, but Terra cannot afford to lose you. As it stands, success in our eyes is you returning home safely from these missions of yours. Your safe return should be your first priority.”

Shirogane wonders what he would see in the King’s eyes, were he to open them. He’ll never know, because the next words out of his mouth after he lifts his hand are,

“Dismissed.”

Used to the King’s abruptness, Shiro takes his brief moment of vulnerability for what it is. He lingers not a moment longer in Kolivan’s quarters, marching himself to his own suite to rest before he sails out again.

With all the time spent out at sea, Shiro thinks he should move the rest of his personal affects to the vessel. (But alas. The vessel on which he sails changes by the week.) His bed is the last bit of repetition and familiarity he can let himself have. Soon enough, all he’ll have left is the cloak on his back. Maybe not even that. If he got anything from his encounter with Lance, he thinks that would be in the god’s favor.

 

—

 

Shirogane was a fool to think he could infiltrate Lance’s kingdom with so little protection. The runes Coran drew helped Shiro feel intuitive with the water’s swells, but not enough to be advantageous against a god. He would need something different. Something harder to ensure that his next dive would not be fruitless.

_What else is there to bring home except my life, or Lance’s death?_

Lance needs to be taken down once and for all.

Shiro forgoes his plan to rest to seek our Coran once again. He asks the man if there are any other symbols or sigils to mark on his body. Ones to glamour his appearance. Maybe there are some to make him invisible without powder? Could any of the marks outside his body interact with the chemical make up inside to he could breathe underwater?The magician gently laughs and says he has just the thing.

He returns with a necklace. The little pendant is the same cyan as Lance’s magic, just unsaturated. He barely feels its weight as Coran lays it in his hands.

“This won’t make you invisible, but something like it. When you put this around your neck, you become like a… 2-way mirror. If you stay still, you definitely will not be caught. When a mirror or something in the reflection moves, it’s easier to spot the disturbance. I know you’ll have to swim a lot, so you’ll less than definitely not get caught. It’s the best I can do for you.”

“Thank you, Coran.” Shiro stares down at the dainty necklace in his calloused palm. “This means a lot to me. I don’t know how to repay you.”

The magician points a heated finger in his face. “Repay me with your life. Promise that you come back, you got it?”

“You got it,” Shiro chuckles.

Coran’s grin is warm. Suddenly it breaks as he gasps. “A word of warning, however.” His pointed finger shifts down to the jewelry Shiro holds. His gaze is steady. “It’s effects last longer than powder, but there is still a time limit. After a few or so hours, its magic begins to fade. You won’t feel any different once the magic goes, but when it does, you will be visible for all to see. When you wear this, use your time wisely.”

“I will Coran.” Shiro’s promise is true.

“Get Allura back for me.”

Shiro will try.

 

—

 

The sea becomes no less daunting. Its waters become no more shallow. The respect it demands does not decrease, but maybe for the creatures that lurk within it, it does indeed. Or perhaps it is just “creature”, in the singular.

Perhaps Shirogane does not have to respect Lance to fear his power. In fact, Shirogane does not have to do anything with Lance but kill him. Under the water, that is precisely what he shall do.

This time when the Captain dives, he is not so naïve or presumptuous to think he can defeat Lance with his bare hands. It was the sea’s emptiness that let him believe he had so little to prepare for. Now that he dives more and more, he realizes that its emptiness should heighten suspicion. Its emptiness means unpredictability. Unpredictability means danger. On this mission, Shirogane makes himself the unpredictable one.

Near the edge of the beach where the water meets the sand, Shiro rows in a boat he will reimburse to a village fisherman. Over his person he wears layers of canvas. Not a bit of his slip suit is to be seen. To his side rests a rod and a box of bait. On his head is a cap Shiro had enchanted with ambiguous disguise. When he slips under the surface he prays the creatures won’t smell him, but above, he is little more than a decoration among the ripples as far as they can see.

Shiro reaches the open water. He pats over the different spaces of his satchel to reaffirm where his potions are one last time. He grips the magic necklace in his hand, letting its coolness seep into the lines of his palm. Slipping it back into his satchel, peeling off his hat, he slips himself into the water.

_Cold cold cold._ The Captain lets the waves settle over him. He lets himself acclimate, testing the pressure of the water against his Altean appendage. Then, he swims.

It is wasteful to the magic if Shiro wears the necklace so close to the water’s surface. The timing has to be just right. If he slips it on too late, there would be enough time for gossip to swarm about his arrival. If he does it too early, its magic with evaporate and give his location away.

Somehow, this time as Shiro explores, the runes over his body buzz with particularly high energy. He doesn’t think this has ever happened before. Obeying the anomaly of this heightened sensation, the man stills the kicking of his legs and pulling of his arms. He lets the water slip over him, and meditates on the vibrations under his skin. They’re even more sensitive when they interact with the Altean magic on him.

As the waves move him he can feel a strange pull. When the waves knock him in one direction, the pull feels stronger than another. The buzzing persists coursing through his body. In his mind, Shiro can swear he hears a whisper at his ear. This whisper urges him in tandem with the runes’ thrumming. Together, they beckon him deeper in the sea.

They lead him close to Lance’s domain.

Before the Captain can forget himself entirely, he slips on the necklace before it is too late. As he brings it over his air helmet, he can instantly see his hands, then down to his torso, then finally his legs disappear from sight. Immediately Shiro hastens his stroke.

As he comes closer to Lance’s kingdom, he sees different schools and groups of fish and unknown creatures drifting about the open arch of the “gate”. He spots an incoming group of sharks, then moulds into their slipstream. This time, Lance is nowhere to be found. Stronger are Shiro’s prayers that he himself is not found first.

At last, Captain Shirogane has made it past the kingdom gates. For the most fleeting of moments, he turns his head about to and fro to take in the view.

Lance’s kingdom, for all its macabre architecture and cruel humor of mortal conquest for decoration, is truly spectacular. The dark, peeling vessels of ages past lean against one another for feeble support. Like village lampposts, floating orbs in warm tones of all colors bob in the water. The orange and yellow lights entice and welcome- Shiro is assured they must lead to businesses or commerce. As he passes lights of blue and green high above, great bouts of noise emit from their doors. Lance must have a thriving entertainment sector. Shiro leaves it at that.

Through thin and winding openings of the sunken ships, there are forgotten treasures littered all over. Strings of pearls and diamonds hang like forgotten coats and scarves. Many openings lead into areas acting like caves. Many of which are occupied by resting or lounging creatures within Lance’s court.

The farther Shiro goes, the wider the open spaces become. But then, out of the left corner of his eye, he sees something most amiss. Slowly he drifts away from his unwitting guides. Then, he pulls himself to the last open corridor to assert his suspicions. As he looks into the wide, dark space, he remembers how often and how acutely he hates being correct.

Shiro swallows down the bile of his dread as he slips into the room. He chokes down his refuse as he looks around.

Crumbled in all corners are rotting cadavers of prisoners ancient. Blue and grey is their decay. Porous and smooth are their yellow bones. Shiro looks from the corner to the pocket of air sitting perfectly in the middle of the room. For in the middle, amidst the death and decay and the lost and the broken, a large dome of air rises from the sea floor. Within it, lost and broken still lives. Within it, Shiro sees life and will trapped. Within the clear cage, bulging in the space like asuspended bubble, are faces Captain Shirogane knows quite well.

Terra prisoners sit on the sands of Lance’s kingdom. Their faces are defeated and hopeless. Their breaths are few, shallow, while they know too well how quickly their breaths are counted. Yet one man stands, pacing in the far left sector of the breathable space. Shirogane personally recognizes him.

In his surprise and anguish of believing his bosom friend had already perished long go,Shiro calls out- “Keith!” And hopes that his childhood friend, a Galra duke, might see him against all odds. Kicking himself franticly to stand before the translucent cage, Shiro bangs his hands against its stubborn walls. Frustrated he tears the necklace off his chest.

Keith opens his eyes wide in disbelief.

For seconds too long yet not long enough, Keith and Shiro stare at each other through the cage’s border.

Keith opens his mouth in a whisper. “How is this possible?” Through the cage’s membrane, it delivers warbled and warped.

“Keith, can you hear me?” The Captain is desperate.

“Shiro. Shiro, I can hear you but… I can see you. I can see you, Shiro.” Keith turns to face a woman sitting close beside him. “Allura, can you see Shiro?”

_Allua- that name._

The woman lifts her dismal head, shuffling all the white curls of her hair. Just like Keith, her eyes shoot open wide. “Captain Shirogane!” She stands at once.

Shiro looks to her abnormal hair, to the markings under her eyes. The empathy shining from them gives her away.

“Allura. You’re Coran’s niece.”

“I am! I am, and-“ Allura looks to Shiro’s palm. “That necklace is not yours.”

He looks down to his wrist, and agrees explaining, “Your uncle has been invaluable to the progress of my missions.”

One by one, faces within the underwater prison cell look over to Shiro. Most are filled with hope. Others don’t dare to hope so quickly.

“How did you get here, Shiro? Lance should have killed you when he saw you. How is this _possible_ ,” Keith stresses.

Shirogane lays a palm over the bubble separating them. “I’ve met Lance.”

His friend scoffs. “Yeah, Shiro. Everyone in this place has met Lance.” Hardened is Keith’s face as he sweeps his arms over the melancholy persons surrounding them.

“No. Keith, Allura. You don’t understand. I’ve met Lance.” At Shiro’s words, Keith’s face hardens in a different way. “I’ve talked with him. I-“

“You _talked_ with Lance?”

“Keith, Keith, not so loud. Some people are trying to wallow in their misery, okay.” A new voice interrupts.

“Pidge?”

It can’t be.

“Ay, Captain Shiro.”

It is.

And it falls upon Shiro to bear the bad news. The man is cursed as an omen of death apparently, but Katie- or Pidge, as she is so now called- deserves to know the fate her father met. She deserves to know that Shiro is wholly responsible.

“Katie, I-“

“What did Lance say to you?” The bad news must wait however, on account of Keith’s demands.

“We didn’t speak for more than a handful of minutes,” _“speaking” being a very loose term,_ Shiro’s inner voice amends. “The last time I tried coming, my crew was hunted and drowned, yet I survived. I think Lance is singling me out. I don’t know why.”

“What is he thinking,” Keith spits.

“He, ah-“ the Captain is hesitant to remember Lance’s unsavory comments. “He was _hungry,_ I guess. But he didn’t seem hungry for anything other than my blood. That’s ultimately what it comes down to.”

One more new voice wraps into the fold. It squeaks with with the man’s incredulity. He says, “you spoke to Lance and lived?!”

“Yes.” Shiro’s voice is exponentially more sedate. “I can’t seem to wrap my head around it either.”

Allura then cuts in, commenting on Shiro’s last point.

“In all my readings, Lance has always been flirtatious. With his servants and people. His lovers and his conquests. It comes as no shock to me that Lance would say such a thing to you, even with the way he’s been lately.”

The panicked man screeches. “‘The way he’s been acting lately’? Allura, Lance has been drowning and killing Terranians for years! Decades, almost!”

“He has.” Allura agrees. “But Hunk, you forget.” _Ah. The big, panicked man’s name is Hunk,_ Shirogane notes. “Lance has lived longer, far longer than a few simple years. Lance has existed and lived in these waters far before Terra even laid claim to the land surrounding it. If anything, this sea is Lance’s. That makes us the trespassers.”

“What, and that’s supposed to make all the destruction he’s caused okay? His godhood is supposed to excuse everything he’s done?” Keith raises his voice.   
“Keith-“ Shiro tries to soothe.

But Allura continues as though neither man had spoken. “Before this… war, Lance never used to be this way. At least, that’s what all my readings said.”

All of the noise and all of their words take Shiro in too many different directions. He could ask how these people, out of all the souls Lance’s sharks have taken, were chosen to live instead of the others. Shiro could ask Katie if she and her father and brother knew what they would loose when they joined the kingdom’s ranks. He burns to know how heavy now Keith’s crown must feel, being a duke for Terran, but trapped under the water. There is also the curiosity as to how this woman Allura knows so much about Lance from “before.”

He addresses the woman first. “Your reading?” Shirogane recalls all the scant and biased book about Lance. “None of the books I read said anything about Lance’s character. How do you know all that?”

“Reserved for magicians,” she replies simply. “And historians. Both of which I happen to be.”

“Okay. Okay but the rest of you, how are you all still alive?”

Allura and Keith stand, but the other two huddle against each other. They meet each other’s eyes, silently imploring the other to answer Shiro’s question. Keith answers him slowly.

“It’s mostly random, the people Lance takes and keeps from the ships he sinks. His prisoners are like trophies to hm. His servants they… They’ve been torturing the prisoners. It’s like a sport.” The panicked man looks queasy the more Keith retells. “We’ve only been here a few weeks so they haven’t gotten to us, yet.” He drops his head. “It’s going to be our turn, soon.”

Shiro bangs his hand on the cell. “ _No.”_ The hopeless faces look up to him. He insists again, “no. No, it won’t be. Not when I can help it.” He stares Keith directly in the eye. “I made it my sworn mission that I would apprehend and kill Lance. That is what I have come to do. And once my mission is done, I’ll come back to save you all. I promise.”

Allura gasps, as Keith bitterly shakes his head at Shiro.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Just because Lance is mad, doesn’t mean he can’t be stopped.”

Allura’s eyes are glassy. Shiro sees so much in Coran in her, it’s startling. The woman gently pushes Keith behind her, and makes a promise of her own to the Captain.

“Captain Shirogane. You must understand. The Lance that we know today is not the same Lance that truly was.”

“I’m sorry but I can’t… It’s too hard for me to envision a ‘different kind’ of Lance when the one that we know is so bloodthirsty.”

“That’s just it, Hunk.” She dampens the fuse of the unknown man’s panic with a snap. “Ages ago, man and water lived in peace. We had symbiotic harmony. Lance protected those under his care, and extended his protection to mortals, too. In turn we learned to watch for our greed. We never took more from the sea than we absolutely needed. Ages ago, mortals were Lance’s friend. It is all this to say that, something truly terrible must have happened in these waters.”

As Allura goes on, her voice gets even more warbled. Shiro doesn’t know why. “My father, Archmage Alfor-“

Ah. He knows it’s now _late_ Archmage Alfor. Shiro also knows from whence Allura’s distorted voice derives.

“-He was taken by Lance and his minions. My father was drowned and killed and likely tortured too, in these very waters. I don’t think I’ll ever truly forgive Lance for what he did. And for every new life takes and taunts, it will be harder to forgive him for what he does. Even still, I don’t think I can ever really blame him. Not when history has been so kind and peaceable for so long before this mess.

“Lance is unwell, Shiro. Something truly tragic must have happened for him to become this way. Of this I am most convicted. Please understand, Lance is mad with power. But that does not mean he is unstoppable. And because he is not unstoppable, he still has a chance to get better.” Allura’s eyes do all the begging her words could never say. “It is for this reason, that I still have hope. Hope that my father may still be avenged. And maybe, one day, Terra and its waters can live in peace once more.”

Inside the prison, the peoples’ faces are stricken with the agony of remembrance. They also carry the burden of hope. In the Captain’s mind, he is thrown back to memories of sit-downs with High Captain Holt. His words about Lance were the very same. He carries the burden of remembrance and hope and times long gone, all the same.

From a smolder, to a flicker, to a spark, steadily rising- Shirogane remembers why he decided to set sail with Kolivan’s navy at all. With the white-knuckled grip to the thinnest of hopes, Shiro continues to rise. He keeps fighting. He looks to Allura with all the silent gratitude he can. To the others’ faces he cannot bear to look, but Allura’s face is the final tether he needs.

Then suddenly, a disturbance shifts the waves near Shiro’s back. The prisoners all gasp, their fragile hope ripped brutally away.

The Captain is already assured of what, or who, is behind him. It pushes the water from behind his back. The chest behind him breathes in deep. Shiro feels its cold muscles and skin press in flush against him. The heartbeat that thuds against him is slow. The gel-like claws first encroach around his waist, then trail to grip just above his ribcage.

The voice curls right into his ear, reverberating more as it passes through the rim of his air helmet.

“I heard my name.”

The last thing Shiro sees is are the prisoners’ shocked and angered faces. In a heartbeat, Keith’s and Allura’s despair implores Lance to let Shiro stay among them just another second. In the next, Shiro is whisked to an entirely different space.

Shirogane blinks his eyes open. He fights against the strain of magic in his head. When the strain abates, he sees that he’s been taken to a throne room of sorts.

_At least I haven’t been beached again._

Lance with his mighty shark tail, swims around Shiro to drift down on his throne. It’s an aborted creation of broken parts. Sea shells and glass, diamonds, rubies and emerald all fuse to make a loosely throne-shaped piece. It is a bastardized amalgamation of things that once by themselves were beautiful.

The throne reminds Shiro of the god it seats.

The god resumes where he left off, peeling stray seaweed and sand from his top.

“Really, it’s bold of you to think you can speak of me so freely. Especially when you’re in _my_ waters. Did you think I wouldn’t hear your gossip? Did you think my servants wouldn’t?” Even as he sits far away from where Shirogane stands, Lance’s voice is stiflingly intimate as he asks, “How well do you actually realize you’re on borrowed time?” He waves his smoothed, dark hand in a circle. “And how much of a glutton for punishment are you? Do you enjoy tempting fate this much? How much do you want to die!”

“I don’t!” Shiro barks. “I want to understand!”

So Lance pauses. He agitates in his seat. His glow sparks, stuttering around him. “I beg your pardon.”

“I have never once gossiped about you, Lance.” Gossip- the word is said as though its very letters itself rob Shiro’s moral character. “You don’t know me, but I hope you do not already think of me to be so low. Yes I hear many rumors about _you_ , but I would hope there’s more to you than hearsay. And to be frank, I think my days are more than the crew you sank or the prisoners you keep, have.”

Lance violently bristles. Shiro persists.

“I think if you wanted to kill me, you would have done it already. If not had your minions do your bidding for you.”

“You know nothing,” Lance spits.

“I know you’re singling me out.” Shirogane rises to the challenge.

“And?”

“And I know this is the third time I’ve dived close to your lair, and yet I’m still alive. I know this is unusual for many Terranian people.”

“So?”

“So I think that by Allura’s enlightening report-“

“Your little ‘scholar’ is a fool-“ Lance sniffs.

“And from your very words yourself-“

“You wouldn’t dare cite me if you knew what’s good for you-“

Shirogane squints his eyes and snarls hotly, “Then I know you _want me_.”

Shockingly, _audaciously_ , Lance blushes. The god curls his tail around himself as tight as he can. His raised voice his high-pitched with histrionics.

“My flirtations are laughable to you mortals! My divinity is… _incomprehensible_ to you! I could have any person, god, demigod, being or thing I want. You think I’d… _want_? Someone like you?”

Shiro doesn’t dare to presume the thinkings of a god, but Lance’s words feel most like posturing than pride. He keeps a level head, cutting Lance’s guffaws short with clipped words.

“You’re the one that called me delicious. Your wanting someone like me is precisely what I want to know, too.”

The god turns his head, lifts his brow, and looks down his nose imperially. “But I don’t want you.”

“Your words and actions hardly match, your Divineness.”

Lance’s brows grow cross. “Do not mock me.”

“Then answer my question.”

Lance rises from his quasi-formed throne. “Such high demands for such a lowly human.”

“What do you want _from_ me, then?”

“I don’t know. Seeing you flushed with anger is pretty satisfying, though.”

“Enough with the games! Or is this another sick part of your amusement? Is this a new torture you’re experimenting!” The Captain takes long strides towards the seat.

“Really, Shiro. That is your name, right? This wouldn’t hurt so bad if your unanswered questions didn’t kill you so much.”

“I’ll tell you what I’ve come for, then.” Shiro comes within reaching distance of Lance. Shaking, seething with rage, he wraps his larger hands around the god’s svelte neck. “I’ve come to claim your blood!”

“Again with this-“ There’s a new edge to the god’s voice Shiro’s never heard.

“Let my people and friends free!”

“That’s not going to happen,” Lance rolls his eyes.

So Shiro shakes them where they stand. “Give me the lives of my crew back!”

“I can’t raise the dead.”

“Stop your servants from terrorizing the people that sail across these shores!”

“I can’t help their hunger.” Lance’s edge sharpens.

“You can’t raise the dead. You can’t stop your minions, you can’t release your prisoners- my people. You can’t do this, you can’t do that. You won’t answer my _damn questions,_ what the hell can you do! Why are you doing this to me!” Shiro roars.

“ ** _Fine!_** ”

A burst of blinding blue erupts all around them. Visions, images, mirages all circulate too fast for Shiro to parse any one out. Hazy, but more turbulent than a whipping flag scenes play out above his eyes. The hot and blinding blue settles like ink around Shiro and Lance. In the middle of the dyed water stands Lance. All the markings of his body pulse the same color. Shiro is mesmerized.

Alone in the middle of the throne room, the god looks unfathomably lonely.

When all the images and shapes fade, one blot of ink in the shape of a shark remains. It glides lazily before its maker. Lance watches it with agitated eyes.

Gravely he whispers. “I don’t want you, Shiro.” He clamps his eyes shut tight. It dims their glow, but only fractionally. “I need you.”

It is out of bewilderment, neither fear nor respect that keeps Shiro quiet. He listens patiently. (Even if his blood is boiling the salt water around him.)

The blue gathering of inky magic still winds unaffected by either parties. The ink-shape shark is content to swim and drift as it pleases. All to swift is its demise. Another magic ink form, suspiciously human in shape, emerges from behind and attacks it barehanded. Lance spins his hand in the water to make the shapes interact. His eyes however could not be any less engaged.

“You have your people, Shiro.” Schools of sharks and fleets of men appear on opposing sides. “And I have mine.”

The two sides fight, battling to the bone. As a life perishes its shape dissolves into the water. One by one, another shark is taken by the legged beings. The sharks dissolve, the color bleeding into the water around it. The people remain. In fact, only one shark is left remaining with then the massacre ends. Shirogane is spared much of the graphicness on account of the whimsical designs.

Lance eschews the colored cloudy water away. His marks still pulse with magic, not nearly as bright or abrasive as before. He draws closer to Shiro.

“I need you because… because I need your help.” Lance’s words are refuse being yanked from within his stomach.

Shiro cannot, and will not believe what he is hearing.

“Even for a god, you have nerve-“

“You were the first person.”

Whatever edge Lance has been building up immediately falls away. His jaw loosens. So do his hands. Instead of hardened and stiff, his entire person melts into weariness. Shiro would never be able to tell Lance’s age by appearance. The bottomless weariness within his eyes betrays the ancient struggles to which he’s born witness.

Lance’s eyes are downcast.

“You were the first to ever come into these waters without coming to thieve. Or to kill.”

By his bewilderment Shiro grew silent. In his anger, he remains so.

“I didn’t see you the first time you came alone. My sharks did. They saw you far in the distance and they ran you away. They know better by now than to trust people. For years, all this sea has been is a battle of my magic against yours. My people can no longer trust because it only leads to death. For the first time in years… has it been decades?” Soft blue is the inky magic that rises from Lance’s hands. More shapes emerge, lazy and dawdling.

“For the first time in far too long, they told me there was a human that did not come to bring death. They said there was one who didn’t _seek to destroy._ ” The light blue turns into Shiro’s shape as he stands before Lance, now. “I was told that there was one human who could be the one to show mercy.”

Shiro’s patience, while thin and elusive, is not totally forgotten in the moment. It gives Lance just enough room to continue on.

“Can you show mercy, Shiro?”

Shirogane looks down to the still, light blue outline of himself. He then meets Lance’s eyes.

“In your divinity, it is beyond my power to show ‘mercy’. Wouldn’t it be more appropriate of me to show you grace?”

Lance blinks. “Well said. How about this: I can show you mercy if you give me grace. Grace to me and my people, that is.”

In this moment, it is rather for the sake of good diplomacy than good morals that makes Shirogane keep his head. Neither grace or mercy does he think Lance deserves. Grace and mercy, he’s lived too long without to pay it much mind. At least in this moment the god isn’t trying to come on to or flirt with Shiro. In a debate he feels less out of his depths. (Though, there’s something to be said about debating under the depths of haunted waters.)

“Even if I could, why should I. Besides your interest… No, frankly your _obsession_ with me, you’ve given me no reason to support any cause of yours.”

The man is familiar of his station in life. He is aware of the nature of his presence. For as he speaks with Lance, he knows he alone is the one that will be able to turn the tide of this war. He knows that while Lance still has his guard lowered, he may take this chance to seize him at last. Shiro knows in these delicate moments, he could be the one to end the war once and for all.

But that doesn’t mean he’s going to give it up without a fight of his own.

“Not only have I been reduced to asking help from a human, but I also somehow forgot all you murderers are glorified puppets; wielding magic for the king.” Lance sits himself back in his throne, pointing vindictively to Shiro’s metal arm. “And you call yourselves magicians.”

The emotional rollercoaster Shiro’s being taken on charges too quickly. From bewilderment to anger, from anger to confusion, he can’t help but say “ _What_?”

“ _What_ , what?” The god is reluctant to raise his voice again, but it doesn’t stop his anger from rekindling. “I don’t see anyone else from any other kingdom culling or torturing my people.”

Shiro deliberately forgets his station a moment to approach Lance’s throne.

“This kingdom’s territory spans the entirety of the seashore.” Irately the man shakes his head. “Is that what you think about everyone in the kingdom?”

“What?”

Shiro foresees this conversation becoming cyclical. “Do you think that every person on Terra holds magic?”

Lance relinquishes the grip of his hands. Uncrossing the furrow in his brow, easing his voice he answers. “The very first ones to intrude my waters did. With their gaudy purple and their horrible laughter. The witch’s cackling frightened the pups from their sleep. Their magic still perverts my waters. It affects all of my servants and people. Them and their ugly markings are the ones who sail my water most. Even with all the times they’ve come and gone, I’ve never managed to truly beat them. It’s like the more of you I kill, the more of you that come.”

The Captain pays no mind to that last chilling thought. Instead, he corrects the god and his wildly skewed thinking. “Not everyone in Terra does magic.” His voice and eyes narrow. “To be honest, not many people in Terra do magic at all.”

“What are you talking about?”

Shiro’s and Lance’s confusion trades off. The man explains further.

“Magicians in Terra aren’t rare, exactly. But they are uncommon. They’re uncommon enough to make them highly sought-after, and I don’t know which magician I’ve met that hasn’t lived in a mansion. Or palace. If what you’re saying is true, than these magicians work outside of King Kolivan’s commissions. He may be cold, but he isn’t cruel.”

Something snaps in place in Shiro’s mind.

“And now with Archmage Alfor dead, they must be taking this opportunity for their own gain.”

The god is uninterested in the human’s mutterings. While he contemplates, there’s only one truth to which Lance clings.

He voices it.

“You don’t do magic?”

Shiro blinks at the abrupt outburst. His eyes flick to the right and left of Lance’s throne. “No… I don’t.”

For a cold-blooded creature, Lance goes startling red at Shiro’s confession. He huffs and scoffs and hums, waving his finned arms about the man’s body.

“Then how do you explain all those markings? What about that-“ Lance points around his head, then to his own right arm. “That ridiculous thing on your head that lets you breathe. Your white arm? What about that little toy that made you invisible- which was a cute trick, by the way- to my sharks and I?”

Shirogane tightens his hand around his satchel. “First, it’s not a toy. And second; all the magic that I ‘posses’ is temporary. It was gifted to me by someone else.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s the truth.”

“You people are strange.”

“Weren’t we discussing something else?”

Lance snaps his fingers. It’s nothing more than for show, considering the sound it makes is little more than a thudded vibration.

“We were, and I got bored. And confused.” Lance sighs. He racks his eyes over Shiro again. “Since it’s obvious this conversation reached its end a long time ago, and since you’re refusing to be any help to me, I guess there’s nothing more to discuss.”

“Wait. Wait, wait I can-“

“Ah. Yes. Now he wants to discuss. Any final words?”

Shiro’s eyes surge open wide. “Lance. Please, no-“

“Well, see you next time maybe.”

Captain Shirogane doesn’t have enough time to close his eyes before Lance makes his next move.

In one moment, Shiro idly floats under the heavy pressure of deep water like sludge.

In the next, he awakens to pressure released.

Shiro is amazed that he can pick up his head from where it lays. He is grateful to still have a head at all. Unless of course, Lance released him into eternal sleep.

Alas, the sand the Captain spits out of his mouth is very real, indeed.

“ _Dammit_!”

Captain Shirogane stomps and curses all the way back to the castle as he forms his next mission plan.

Grace and mercy, Shiro will know no more.


	4. The Seduction

Captain Shirogane is at a loss. Regarding his next mission, he feels he has exhausted all the ways he can infiltrate Lance’s domain. He’s tried the blatant approach, but failed when it was the sharks and not his crew that surrounded on all sides. Shiro went on his solitary mission. He’s tried sneaking in. He’s tried lingering, he’s tried demanding, he’s tried debating. He doesn’t know what’s left. Shirogane’s crew were smote too soon to ask nicely.

There’s a distasteful inclination growing louder within Shiro’s mind. It tells him that not all of his options have been exhausted. Not really. Shiro hears it, and longs to shrug it away. The louder it gets the more repulsion he feels.

Shamefully, a new voice makes him question. It asks him if the sake of the kingdom is worth the overcoming of his disgust.

Shiro mustn’t loose sight of his mission. The mission being victory of all things. Victory, Shiro will have. Even if he has to betray himself from this point on.

The new voice that taunts says that Shiro has demanded and pressured and yelled at Lance. The silent inner voice sounds like his, but the words belong to another’s. It says that a softer approach might be better received. Goading and mocking, it tells Shiro to try a different kind of “nice” on Lance.

The more it speaks, the more Shiro becomes disgusted not by its words, but how quickly he concedes.

For Captain Shirogane’s next mission, he acquiesces to try the different approach. He can remind himself to become nicer. He knows how to be gentle. His scowls he can turn into grins. Shiro hopes it’s not too late to turn Lance’s impression of him to something else. It cannot be too late, because for Shiro’s next mission, he is going to seduce Lance.

When he tells Kolivan, he merely alerts him of the date of his next voyage. When he tells Coran, he alludes to his method as little more than a less hostile attempt. It must be the man’s magic that catches onto Shiro’s intent so quickly. The Captain doesn’t know what gave him away.

Silently, privately, he’s thankful that Coran deduced what he did. It makes Shiro’s preparation that much easier.

“I won’t give you any other runes or jewelry,” explains the magician as he leads Shiro to his suite, “but I can give you something else.”

When they reach Coran’s room, Shiro asks if he means to give him a potion. Coran laughs.

“For this, potions and spells would only hurt, my boy. No, what you need is something more… practical.” He twirls his mustache. Shirogane instantly thinks he should have been nervous far before this moment. Coran reaches into his closet. “Like this.” He holds something up in front of his face.

Shiro didn’t know what to expect when Coran asked for him to follow, but it wasn’t this. He pulls the garment from the man’s arms, letting it fold over his own. He inspects it as Coran dives further into his closet to retrieve something else.

The shirt is modest enough. Its black fabric is sleek and assumedly water-proof. Long sleeves and high collars Shiro can agree with, but the sheer patterns in its design give him pause. When Coran reemerges, he thrusts pants for Shiro to take as well.

His arched eyebrow and clever look make Shiro clutch the garments tighter.

“Well?” Coran intones.

Shiro’s confusion is silent.

“Aren’t you going to try it on?”

The Captain looks down to the flexible fabric in his arms, then up to Coran.

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now. We have to be sure it fits! Also, I’ll probably need to help you out of that super tight shirt!”

“Ah.” Shiro sighs. “Very well.”

He walks into Coran’s bathroom, changes into the offered clothing, and walks out with a tepid grimace. The glance to his reflection he kept short and brisk; he couldn’t accept walking around in something like this.

“Is this really necessary?”

Coran has no such qualms. “Absolutely! Lance already knows the seal suits; he and his people see them as threats. The long sleeves will also hide that unmistakable arm. This is about becoming as least-threatening as possible.” He nearly purrs as he says, “Now it’s about the promises you can fulfill.”

“Coran,” Shiro shudders. “I really didn’t need that imagery.”

The magician laughs as if Shiro hadn’t spoken. He swats Shiro’s rump, proclaiming with mirth, “Now go get ‘im Shiro you hero!”

Shirogane keeps his arms tightly crossed over his chest.“Why are you so enthused about this?”

“Well you see-“

Quickly, Shiro holds up a hand. “Never mind.”

The Captain is hesitant to look at his appearance any more than he has to. For the sake of his own confirmations, he turns around to the mirror before looking back. He keeps his reflection’s eyes locked to his own. He dares to unwind his arms across his chest. Limply they hang, and heavily he sighs.

The fabric of the shirt stretches and hugs all over his torso. The light in Coran’s suite, swirling with Terranic magic embraces the bulge of his biceps. It shines over the rise of his pectorals. Sheer sections in the shirt start at the bottom hem, which only draw more attention to all the curvature in his abdominals. When he turns around, all the divots in his back are glossy and defined. Shiro doesn’t look any farther down before he reaches his ultimate discomfort.

For this, he has no one to blame but himself.

He wants to ask Coran if he thinks this will really work or not; but he also really doesn’t.

Captain Shirogane, not feeling very deserving of his rank in the present moment, exhales slow and agonized. “I guess there’s no time like the present.” He hopes Lance sees something different than the mint, synthetic figurine Shiro sees in himself. “I’ll be off, then.”

Coran gives Shiro’s folded uniform back to him.

“But you’ve only just come back. Take a rest first. After you have, then go out and work your magic,” he winks.

Shirogane laments that it is magic that has gotten him into this mess.

Regardless, he resigns. After a full night’s rest, (what a civilian might call a nap,) Shiro sends a note to the King to announce his departure, leaving with little more than Coran’s gifted clothes and magic necklace. The necklace slips easily under his shirt. Shiro’s runes hum softer and softer as they fade. He voyages out on a personal vessel again, dreading what awaits him this time meeting Lance.

Under the cover of quick-approaching night does Shiro sail. When he finds the feeding sharks near the shore, there’s not a cloud overhead. If the shark’s eyes weren’t glazed with Lance’s magic, he thought he could have seen the stars’ shine in them.

Immediately the sharks spot Shiro in his boat. They stop feeding. They recognize his sent but come no closer. Silently, waiting and baited are they from where Shiro can see.

It seems as though the Captain is already part of the fold. All the better for him. Smirking,he slips into the water. He wraps the air helmet over his head. Lance’s sharks still watch, and everything still is going according to Shiro’s admittedly slap-dash plan.

_If I interrupt their feeding to get it done? Well, maybe they’ll get angry and feast on me to put me out of my misery._

He shakes his head.

As Shiro swims close enough to the ravenous sharks to be just out of reach, he puts his next phase in motion. “Take me to Lance.” They do.

Thankfully the sharks slow down just enough so Shiro can easily follow. There’s no light to be had, except for the outlines their cyan eyes cast. He doesn’t let the cold or the dark get to him, but he wonders just how much of a disadvantage he’s put himself in. He wonders if putting on this ridiculous shirt is redundant if Lance can’t see it.

The sharks disperse once they reach the castle doors. From there, Shiro drifts under the floating lights posted about. When Shiro came last, the orbs’ light competed with the sun’s filtered rays. The castle had seemed sleepy. Almost dull. Now with the dawn of night, the nocturnal creatures are restless and active. There’s not a door Shiro passes that doesn’t have some activity brewing. He steers clear of sharp teeth and wayward fins. They’re all too invested in each other to pay Shirogane’s frank trespassing any mind.

Lance’s throne room is bursting with light too, just up ahead. Shiro enters without preamble.

The god is imperial sitting upon his throne. This time instead of a woven vest, his shoulders are covered in a thick fur coat. Its white color is spotless and flawless; sacrificial. Woven into it are expensive jewels of the sea’s findings, laden in golden casing. An elaborate diadem circles around Lance’s forehead.

Under the cover of night, Lance’s eyes shine like a jewel themselves. He is beautiful as always, like the oiled shine of a sharpened dagger.

The god doesn’t bother lowering his head or eyes as he addresses his new company.

“I caught a wave you were coming. What brought you this time?” He traces his finger over the top of a scepter-like object he holds in his left hand. “Are you here to kill me?”

Shiro cuts off Lance’s haughty scoff. “No. I haven’t come to kill you. That won’t work.”

A brief look of surprise cracks on Lance’s face. It quickly turns sardonic. “Ah. The human can reason. Then if not to kill me, what are you here for? Are you going to tell me you’ve already freed your little friends? Oh, I know. You’re here to bring me a peace treaty.”

Shiro waits until Lance’s eyes find his under the mixing blue and white light in the space. He feels the god’s light down in his very bone marrow.

“I’m not here to kill you.” Shiro repeats. “I’ve come to talk.”

“To _talk_?” Lance suspects a joke. Yet there is no joke to be had looking at Shiro’s face. His laughter is big and raucous. “Talk! You want to talk!” His voice booms out. “Talk, he says! About what, the weather?”

“If you want.”

It is true, Shiro did come to talk. To talk, and nothing else or different or more. If he did, he knew Lance’s suspicious would rise irredeemably. Seduction he doesn’t think he could even achieve straight-on. Talking, guileless talking Shiro can do easily. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be coming so easily for the belligerent god.

“We don’t get weather this far deep. Try again.”

Shirogane shrugs. “Maybe not the weather, then. We can talk about whatever you want.” He remembers that Lance said he needed him for something, and he’ll hold onto that knowledge as much as he’s able. “Like I said, I haven’t come to kill you. I don’t want to be beached. Again.”

“So…talk.”

“Yes, Lance. To talk. Someone as old and divine as you still remembers how to do that, right?”

Lance petulantly sticks out his tongue. The dichotomy of his face and his magic makes him look ageless yet ancient.

“I know how to talk, you ass. I just don’t know if I want to trust you.”

A very fair point. Shiro rebuffs, “We talked about mercy and grace last time, right? I think…” he sighs for good measure. “I think I’m ready to try that.” He amps up his exhaustion. “I’m just tired of all the fighting, Lance. I’m tired of all the loss.” A sob-story is weaved. “How many more lives, on either side, need to be lost before we can finally find a winner? Though in war, there rarely are true ‘winners.’”

Lance stops tracing his fingertip over his scepter.

“You’re right. As much as I hate to say it.”

Shiro can work with this. “So let’s both compromise.”

The god squints his eyes. Around his eyes, cheekbones and collar, his magic flares. “Compromise. That you won’t kill me and I won’t kill you?”

All Shiro does is nod.

The god says,“You’re on.”

It’s almost too easy. They talk.

Shiro can hardly believe his story-like fortune.

Captain Shirogane and the Old God Lance stumble over each other and themselves into conversation. At first it is unbearably stinted. Choppy and bulky do the words come out, from years worth of resentment on both sides. There remain great gaps of silence that neither can bring themselves to call attention to. Trivial, superfluous- these are the things they discuss.

Still, Shiro remains steady. He knows this is all part of his process to grow ever closer to Lance.

The banality of their conversation allows his mind to wander. Shiro thinks of what Coran must be thinking of his plight. He can’t help but wonder what Kolivan must think of the situation. Does the King find Shirogane persistent and loyal? Or does he find it obstinate and desperate how Shiro continues on?

He thinks about the next move he’ll make towards Lance.

Shiro’s thoughts relent. Never once did he think the god was anything less than beautiful. When Shiro first laid eyes on him, he was captivated by the stark bright light. Lance was and is radiant, but Shiro knows he has a job to do. Besides, the kind of beauty Lance holds is untouchable. Dangerous. To hold his kind of beauty would mean to scar, and Shiro likes to think he knows better.

That doesn’t mean he can’t still look while the opportunity is given. This looking and talking is all he’ll do. The convenience is overwhelming that Shiro can separate a man’s countenance from his character.

For this plan to work, he has to hope that Lance likes looking, too. Shiro cannot return in void. He decides to test Lance a bit.

Right now they’re speaking about Lance’s kingdom’s caste system. Really it’s quite fascinating, but only as far as party trivia will allow. The topic is sedate enough. Shirogane lets himself relax.

As the lines of Lance’s lips move, Shiro sighs. He hums a sigh of attentiveness, letting it last a bit too long. The Captain is careful to watch the spark of Lance’s eye. Loosening himself further, Shiro kicks his legs up so he is parallel to the ground. He adjusts his shirt over his stomach.

Nonchalant is the concealed metal hand that fixes the fabric, but the eyes watching him are not.

_Perfect._

If there weren’t so much at stake, Shiro would feel like he was whoring himself out. If he were showing more skin, it would definitely be closer to it. But as Lance’s lidded eyes follow the movement of Shiro’s body, he only feels affirmed.

Another silence descends on them.

“Tell me more,” Shiro offers.

He doesn’t know if Lance feels caught. Either way, it works in his favor that Lance chatters on.

Lance continues to speak, albeit slower than before. It brings Shiro closer to edge, but he still allows his thoughts to wander like before. When the god’s eyes snap to the plan of Shiro’s chest, his next immediate thought embarrasses him.

_I can’t remember the last time I put myself on display like this._ Frankly, Shirogane doesn’t know if he has ever put himself on display like this. To be sure, he’s had his number of lovers. He knows he can provide and satisfy. In those past relationships, he felt his body was more of an… added bonus. Not the forefront selling point. Lance’s voice moves forward, yet his eyes travel down. Shiro’s past relationships don’t matter anymore because now, Lance seems to be buying what Shiro’s advertising.

The dominance of the conversation falls on Lance. It’s all the same to Shiro for the more Lance talks, the more he can test his theories. When he gets all the answers he wants and enough time has passed, he starts making noise about his departure.

He holds himself upright again, drifting closer and closer to Lance’s throne. “See. This wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Lance chuckles. “Honestly, I still don’t know what ‘this’ was.” He doesn’t seem to be aware how badly his eyes are roaming. “But yeah, it wasn’t awful. Doesn’t mean I’m not still on to you.”

This feels like a momentous choice to which route Shiro should take. The Captain may choose to breezily agree. He can reaffirm his concession. Or, he can lean in close, and lower his voice,

“I wouldn’t have it another way.”

So faintly, ever so slightly, Lance’s breath hitches. Shiro looks down to his neck, and his gills almost imperceptibly flutter. Only almost.

The almost is all that Shiro needs to bring him closer to success.

Success is the option Shiro chooses.

Shiro backs out of Lance’s space, not realizing himself just how close he’d gotten. Like either a promise or a threat, he says “Since it wasn’t so painfully terrible, how about I come back? We’ll talk some more. I’ll keep extending my grace and mercy. Maybe I’ll come back with that peace treaty you seem to want so much.”

“I’d rather you chop off my tail,” Lance sourly pronounces.

“I doubt it.”

Shiro himself doesn’t know where that sudden audaciousness came from, but Lance doesn’t mind it. On the contrary, Lance looks somehow thrilled. Captain Shirogane will hold on to that.

Pulling the solitary pot filling his satchel, Shiro sticks his fingers into the powder. Slowly, he raises them to his lips. Ah, still- Lance’s eyes indiscreetly follow.

“Until next time, Lance.”

Shiro doesn’t know who Lance thinks he’s trying to fool when he scoffs. “Get out here, already.”

Shiro does so swiftly. _With pleasure._

He swallows the homing powder with a mouthful of briny water. The mixture feels and tastes like taffy on Shiro’s tongue when he regains his bearings upon his boat. He smacks the taste away with his mouth. He thinks about his interaction with Lance his whole way home.

 

—

 

“How’d it work out for you, Captain Shiro?”

“It” being the revealing clothes Coran let him borrow. Upon returning home, the magician hounded Shiro. Answers and gossip he wanted all given.

But Shiro is a man of many secrets. “It had to have gone fine. I can’t afford any different.”

“Well you’ve come back no worse for the wear, yeah?” Coran grins. “So something must have gone right.”

The curve of Coran’s smile says mischief, but the set of his eyes says sorrow. Shiro knows Coran is counting solely on him to get Allura back safely. Shiro is trying to save this world, but he knows that for the magician, Allura is his world. They both have just as much dependent on this mission going right.

Bur for some reason, Coran’s misery in particular Shirogane cannot stand. The sooner that Lance is brought down, the sooner they may all breathe easier.

Quickly he seeks to raise the downcast of Coran’s eyes.

“Speaking of which. I hate to admit it Coran but, you were right about the…” Shiro points to an arbitrary spot of his shirt. “Lance was much more receptive of me not wearing my seal suit. This was- as much as I hate to say it- a good idea.”

“I knew it! They don’t call me the Coranic for nothing.”

In an instant, he finds those words echoing in his mind just before being pulled back to Coran’s suite. Dumbstruck he lets himself be led, and the contents of the magician’s wardrobe come tumbling back out.

Conspiratorially, Coran snickers and snickers and snickers. Shirogane doesn’t know how his life lead to a moment in time such as this.

Piece by piece, articles of clothing land on the floor and the bed. Shiro’s eyes can’t help but widen in ill-hidden horror.

Coran’s voice is predatory. “I dug into the reserves for these.”

When at last all the clothing is retrieved, Coran holds the clothing against Shiro’s frame as he sees fit. The common trend seems to be jewels and dazzling decals; easy ways to catch the eye.

_I don’t know how far into this I want to let myself be roped._

After much cajoling, bickering and out-right arguing, Shiro leaves with only a couple shirts and few pants more. Each shirt’s hem looks higher than the last. Every color more saturated. The final pair of pants Shiro receives he is nervous to call “pants” at all, they’re so tight.

“If this is what it takes,” he reminds himself under his breath. “All for the sake of Terra.”

Kolivan, Thace and Antok see Captain Shirogane in his new garb. They make no comment. Their lack of reaction is most incriminating of all.

After a few more days of rest and planning, Shiro sails out again.

 

 

—

 

When Shiro voyages next, the sun is only just beginning to set. Because it is only dusk, there are no feasting or swarming sharks near the shore. It’s no matter. Shiro is confident he knows the way to Lance’s castle by now. Following his confidence he strides purposefully deeper into the water. The darkness envelops him. If Lance’s servants smell him, they don’t chase him out. When he reaches Lance’s kingdom doors, he brings his feet below him so he can pseudo-walk over the shifting sands.

Confidently, he marches into Lance’s throne room. Again, there is no one but he and the god occupying the space.

Lance’s smile sharpens the closer Shiro walks.

“Have you come with my treaty, human?”

On this day, Lance is donned in his least utilitarian outfit yet. Around his head circles his ornate diadem, but it does not compare to the intricacy of his top. Sheer, diaphanous and fluttering, it rises around Lance’s neck and swirls around his arms and torso. Its layers of ruffles give Lance an effeminate flair, but the richness of its blue with the inlaying of jewels remind Shiro of his power.

Yet even in all his finery, the Captain thinks Lance would be easier to seduce had he not been such a _brat_. “No, your divine majesty. I do come with a request, however.”

Lance opens his mouth to speak but quickly snaps it shut. He eventually says, “You think you have any right to make requests?”

“What about mercy and grace?”

Lance’s breathy laugher is inaudible. “You just won’t let that go, will you?”

“I thought we were doing pretty good last time.” Shiro offers.

“Okay! Okay, fine!” the god thrusts up his hands. “What, what, what do you want?”

“Could you find it in your heart to let my friends go?”

Lance pulls some free-flowing hair back behind his ear. “You mean my prisoners?” he corrects. “I don’t think so.”

Shiro suspected as much. “It was worth a shot.”

Then, with that out of the way, those are the last words spoken about anything contentious between them. Again the two trip into and over each other as they talk. Their conversation flows easier, but remains choppy from disuse. Though if Shirogane didn’t know any better, he would say Lance looks eager to talk to him.

He wonders how much articulate speech Lance can have with his servants and “people”.

Somewhere during their chat, a simple stool is brought behind Shiro. He doesn’t particularly know its purpose since he can float as he pleases without discomfort, but takes the seat anyway. He figures its the same sentiment as taking someone’s coat, or offering to braid a guest’s hair.Lance is being polite. Far be it from Shiro to deny it when gracefully given.

Throughout this conversation, speaking time is shared between he and Lance, though the god still predictably takes the lead. When the Captain departs, he’s left with the same feeling as though he’s played an unusually grueling board game. Any wrong move and it might cost him the match. With great eagerness, Shirogane awaits the day when their game is played more evenly matched.

This match concludes, and Shiro rises from his stool. Immediately, two great fish come and whisk his stool away. Lance rises from his throne.

His gills flutter as he draws in breath to say something, but Shiro’s outspoken voice beats him to it.

“Lance. Before I go, if you don’t mind my asking-“ he turns his head over his shoulder with smokey, hooded eyes. “Why is it that you still keep me around?”

“I need you.” the god answers glib.

“Oh?” says Shirogane.

“I like our chats,” Lance flatly continues.

“That much?”

“Really, you should be saving your breath to sing my praises that you’re even still alive.”

_Here, another choice_ , Shiro sees. Closing his eyes farther, he lets his voice edge near a croon.

“Perhaps. Or, I’m saving my breath for other things.”

Unmistakably, Lance gasps at Shiro’s brazenness.Or, for other reasons.

Dark is the laughter that bubbles from the Captain’s chest. (Dark is the blood that simmers within him, even if his shock sits at odds with him. Shock, that words such as those would come forth so quickly. Shock that, even only mere weeks ago, his repulsion saying them would have been tenfold. Where did his apprehension go? And was gall left to take its place?)

He ties and knots his gaze onto Lance’s as he sucks on his finger to swallow homing powder. “Until next time, Lance.”

In a flash Shirogane returns to his vessel. He lets the calm waters rock him to and fro. The waves cradle him. The sun settles over his shoulders, nose and knees. Scentless, the open sea’s air cools the hairs on his neck and ankles.

Shiro’s boat grounds him. The waves gently ebb under him. The sun is warm above him. Shiro’s thoughts are chaotic, and one.

_What did I just say?_

As gall gives way to shock, the man mindlessly grabs his ores and takes himself home. All too quickly does his shock give way to numbness.

How ever will he brief his King about this mission?

 

—

 

He does so in sparing, thread-bare words. Captain Shirogane’s feelings conflict too hotly for him to prolong any details regarding Lance. Furthermore, the more time he spends on the surface, the more he doesn’t spend in the water.

_The more time I don’t spend defeating Lance,_ Shiro corrects.

When Shirogane sets sail this time, he needs not utter any word before Lance’s charges lead him to his throne.

There is some kind of buzzing thrumming through the currents of the blindly dark waters. Following the multi-colored glow of the posted orbs, Shiro feels thready electricity licking at his fingertips. Is it because he’s more sensitive to the water’s flow? Impossible. Shiro’s runes have already faded. His arm doesn’t shock with the sensation, either. Stranger and stranger it is, for the closer he pulls himself to Lance’s throne room, the stronger the currents fizz.

Lance must have been in a meeting or briefing of his own. When the audience spots Shirogane powerfully gliding in, they hastily scatter leaving him and Lance to deliberate.

The god, dressed in layers of gilded cloth and embroidered frills, rightens himself as he watches Shiro approach in a stretching one piece. Its clever designs have Lance’s eyes tracing their outline.

“Have I interrupted anything?” Shiro asks mostly genuine.

Lance is unabashed as his staring is caught in the act. “No. Nothing important.”

He says that mostly genuine, too. In the split-second before Shiro was noticed, Lance’s grasp of discretion was completely lost. The god’s eye rolls and heavy slouching could not communicate boredom any stronger.

But when his company fled and Lance sat himself right, it was as though Shiro’s spine fell on the edge of a cauterizing blade. All the water’s energy sparked through him in an instant. Now as Shiro looks into the other’s eyes, the energy hasn’t waned at all. There was simply an untamable surge. The water’s magic encompasses Shiro’s mind, body and senses. It’s powerful enough to threaten bursting his air helmet.

From where he drifts, Lance’s markings may be glowing brighter than ever.

“Ah, perfect.” Shiro notes the fluctuating flicker of Lance’s cyan. “Because I’m here to ask you to release my friends.”

“Shiro, you-“

“And I _asked_ nicely this time. Didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” Lance placates.

“And?”

“And I think you’re going to have to try a little harder than that, little human.”

“ _I’m not as little as you think_ ” might come off too strong, Shiro considers. He agrees with that particular voice of reason, so he curbs himself to what he hopes is a more playful route.

“You knew I had to ask. It’s like our routine, now.”

_Our._

Anything to endear him to Lance. Shiro thinks he doesn’t grit his teeth to that as much as he thinks he ought.

“Eh. I guess it’s cute, I’ll give you that.”

This… this _liveliness_ in the water is so strong it’s distracting. It intercedes with the errant waves of Lance’s voice so Shiro has to concentrate more. Yet the energy feels bright in his mind so the more he concentrates, the more it makes his head hurt. If Shiro is like this, how might Lance be fairing with the water this way?

“This may be an odd question but… does the sea feel, I don’t know. Different to you?”

Lance tilts his head. “Different?”

“I don’t know how to describe it,” Shiro pulls a hand up through the water as he attempts to articulate. “Like there’s this energy all around.”

Sharply, Lance stiffens. Shiro doesn’t know what’s happened, but the magic in the waves feels as if someone’s pulled a plug from a drain. Siphoning out, Shiro feels much more clear of mind. His senses are no longer assailed, but his confusion remains.

Worrisome is Lance’s voice. “You felt that?”

_Curious._

“I don’t know what it is I felt but yes, I suppose it was felt.” Shirogane blinks. “And now it isn’t.”

Shoving himself back into his throne- no. No, Lance is not shifting himself back. He’s _cowering._

Shiro squints his eyes. _Is he? He can’t be_. Shiro observes closely as Lance’s marks turn blue to lavender. _Is he_ blushing?

The marks shift in and out of color so quickly, they look as though they’re twinkling. It’s endearing. Or rather it would be, if Shiro were still not so damn confused.

Lance sputters, and Shirogane deliberately pays it no mind.

“Well there. Now you have nothing to worry about. Nothing’s different anymore.” He declares petulantly.

If Shiro were not working so hard to put himself in Lance’s favor, he would be weaker to the temptation to roll his eyes. Shiro will say, Lance has been routinely more receptive to his sassier side.

From there Shiro tries to lead into steadier conversation. As they talk, the muted hue of Lance’s marks hardly abates.

The two speak about the state of affairs within Lance’s kingdom. The Captain never realized just how much and how political an underwater kingdom could be. The sharks all have personalities of their own, if Lance’s reports are to be believed. There are cliques and parties and lobbying groups, much like the people above. Shiro’s liege King Kolivan dueled for his position, but Lance alludes to a process more like divine appointing for his own. Long ago the forces of nature were intertwined, and indiscernible at best. When it came time to sunder their elements, each chose a mortal vessel. Lance was allegedly worthy.

As Lance sits upon his throne, Shiro finds no reason to challenge the allegation.

Shiro in turn speaks about Coran. Coran, of all people. Lance had asked what it was like on the surface, how the people were like. Apparently, in Shiro’s mind, the state of the surface-dwelling condition resided with… the magician Coran. Lance enjoys the stories, regardless. As Shiro goes on, Lance’s marks slowly shift back to their blue color. Instead of curling into himself, he leans forward with interest to watch the human’s face. Everything about the human and his sheer humanity captivates the god.

There’s a break in the story. Suddenly Lance’s captivation drops. He sighs forlorn. “I haven’t been to the surface in ages.” His shoulders are clenched high enough to reach his ears. “Things have been… well. You know.”

“But you can take a legged form, can’t you?”

Lance’s answering scoff taints into a sneer. “Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.”

The man knows all too well of the dichotomy of what “can” be and what “should” be. In this very moment, he is caught in a tangling web of what he can and should do. Take for instance his next choice. He may choose to push the question further, but he has just wisdom enough to know he should not.

Vaguely, open to interpretation, Shiro answers “I know what that’s like.”

“I bet you do.”

Circular and indirect conversations Shiro has never been a fan of. He would go so far as to say he hates them, and all the mind games involved. Of course he _can_ play, but why should he when he could simply say what he means? The man takes his departure before the loop can begin.

“Thank you again for showing me enough grace to let me see another day.” _Even if you didn’t, that would still be doing me a favor,_ his mind supplies. Mostly in jest.

“It’s the least I can do, being the god I am and all that,” Lance waves a hand around his face, then holds it under his chin.

“Of course, your majesty. Well, if you’ll permit my leave.”

Shiro doesn’t give Lance enough time to dismiss him.

Increasingly, the Captain’s thoughts are growing louder as he voyages home. He doesn’t waste homing powder on a travel that long because the powder is only so finite. (Disregarding the monumental headache Shiro would be left with upon arrival.) Besides, his sailing allows him time to parse through the conversations he holds with the god, more bewildering though they’re becoming.

He wonders if all the time under the water is getting to him. Perhaps it’s scrambling his head. Perhaps it’s Lance himself. Is his magic pervading Shiro’s brain? Whatever it was, Shiro convinces himself he cannot be mistaken. During this trip, the god had a fresh look of excitement melted over his face.

_Excitement over what,_ Shirogane wonders.

The man grapples with the thought all the way home, as well as contemplating every interaction before.

_Curious, for sure._

 

—

 

Captain Shirogane does not swim to meet Lance’s sharks on his next voyage. Silently, Shiro escorts himself alone towards Lance’s domain. He is careful not to meet eyes with any of his servants as he travels. Every so often he readjusts the enchanted necklace floating around his collar. Even though he wears it and its magic, the sharks and fish may still smell him.

_Not a problem._ Shiro reminds himself, diving deeper. _I don’t need total invisibility. Just an advantage._

Either Lance is extending all his grace on Shiro or his necklace is really that effective, because he is able to swim all the way into Lance’s prison without interception. Shiro may exhale the breath he was holding, enjoying a plan gone right.

Quickly he knocks on the dome surrounding Terra’s people; Shiro’s friends. This time it is Hunk to notice first. He immediately rouses those next to him, pointing at Shiro drifting on the other side.

Keith draws close to the wall, shooting Shirogane fierce imploring eyes. “Shiro! We’ve been waiting.” Keith releases the breath he was holding, too. “Do you have a plan? Are you here to get us out?”

Shirogane wishes that were the case. “No, no.” He whispers. “I’ve just come to tell you I’m alright. And I’ve…” He dares to look into the eyes of little Katie, earnest Hunk. Of all the weary eyes of the prisoners before him. “I’ve come to tell you to have faith in me.”

“Faith?” Allura says. “Why ever would we need more faith? Captain Shirogane, there’s no one else here that we or the people trust more.”

The man clenches his teeth. He folds his lips into a tight line. “If you know what I was doing, you might have doubts.”

Impassioned, Keith slaps his hand on the dome. “Why? What’s going on? Lance isn’t doing anything to you, is he?” His voice is quick to rise. “He isn’t, _right_?”

Allura’s voice is the sun to block the rising tides of the pull in Keith’s tone. Dawning, dewy, the woman’s voice inquires. “Keith. I’m sure Captain Shirogane has this under control. Lance isn’t treating you badly, is he?” She addresses the Captain.

“I want to tell you more,” Shiro promises. “I want to tell you all more, but now is not the time. Now, I-“

In a dash of harshly stroked blue and white, Shirogane is pulled away. He hasn’t even the time to say goodbye before two coarse fins hold him in their grasp. When he spoke with the prisoners he took off his necklace, so behind its magic he can no longer hide.

Roughly he is brought into the throne room. No stool is offered at his arrival. This time, he feels not like a guest, but a criminal.

_I should have known better than to trust the water’s calm. I should have known it was too good to be true._

“I see you were visiting your friends,” Lance drawls. His voice takes a quality which Shiro has never heard.

He wishes he didn’t find it as attractive as he did.

“My friends and my people, your Majesty.”

Lance hums.

“And what were you doing exactly, chatting with your friends and your ‘ _people._ ’”

The god’s implications are poisonous, but Shiro thinks fast. Before Lance can order his servants to detach Shiro’s last good arm, he uses it to draw out a container from his satchel. He holds it up near his face.

“I was telling them about the surprise.”

Dizzyingly, Lance changes from brittle suspicion to bright glee. “A surprise?”

Shiro clutches it, pulls it, and uses it to his advantage. The man kicks his legs closer to the throne. After he deposits the container in Lance’s hands, he doesn’t further the space between them.

“For you.” He smiles.

The god turns the container over in his hands. He does it again. After a third and fourth time, he holds it back up.

“What _is_ it?”

Cheeky is Shirogane’s response. “Try it.”

“ _Try it,_ ” Lance mutters before sticking a hand in the bright green substance. He swipes some of it out, inching it closer to his lips. Then exclaims, “Wait!” He points his gloop-clad finger in the human’s face. “How do I know you’re not trying to poison me?”

The glob threatens to drift away from Lance’s outstretched finger. He notices it trembling, then brings it against his chest, shielding it with his other hand.

Shirogane smirks. “I guess you don’t know. You’ll just have to trust me.”

Lance doesn’t question it. Silently, he regards the unusual substance coating his finger. He squints his eyes towards Shiro. He regards his finger again. When all seems satisfactory, he slowly lifts it into his mouth. Pulling it out with a resounding _pop,_ he sits straighter as he chews and considers the flavor.

His face looks tense. Shirogane commends the god for keeping such a straight expression.

“What is this?” Lance asks dubiously.

Shiro paddles to the throne, holding out his hand to have the container back. “It’s called ‘food goo.’” His eyes are just as dubious as he watches the gelatin wiggle under the water. “To be honest, it’s not much of a ‘human’ food as much as a ‘Terra’ food, but I asked Co-“ Shiro halts. He doesn’t know if Lance remembers or even saw Coran when he and his crew came, but he’d rather not risk it. “I asked my friend to whip me up a batch. What do you think?”

Lance’s gaze is shared between the food goo and Shiro’s steady eyes. “To be honest Shiro, that was the worst thing I’ve ever had to experience in my life, and I’ve lived for… ever.”

“Yeah, none of us on the surface really care for it either.”

“Then how do you eat it? Is this something your friend of yours makes often?” Lance’s voice is scandalized.

“It’s a favorite of his, yes.” _Unfortunately._ “We put up with the taste because we know it makes him happy.”

“That was a terrible gift, Shiro.”

“I sincerely apologize.”

“Too bad I can’t return it.” The god claps his hands together. “I know! You can make it up to me.”

Shiro’s lips curl deviously. Daringly, brazenly, carelessly, he lays a hand over Lance’s. It’s not immediately snatched away, so he continues. “And how would I go about doing that?”

The god’s eyes don’t stray anywhere from Shiro’s. “I’m always in the mood for something sweet.”

“Our King isn’t too big on sweets.”

“That’s a shame. You’re missing out.”

For the sake of the game, Shiro agrees. “Maybe.”

“What about you,” Lance counters.

“What about me?”

“Do you like sweets?”

_Now this? This option is just too easy._

It’s made easier with Lance’s dilating eyes and saturating marks. Interestingly, the water hums and electrifies again. He thinks he’s being subtle or clever or both, in the way he trails his fingers up Shiro’s hand. Then his wrist. Then his arm.

“I’ve been known to indulge a sweet thing or two.”

_It’s now or never._

The water is silky as it pushes against Shiro’s face. Unwrapping his air covering, he gives Lance just one second to refuse, then swoops in over Lance’s waiting mouth.

The way he captures Lance’s lips with his own is rich and decadent like caramel. The god responds hungrily, melding and fusing under Shiro’s press.To Shirogane, Lance tastes like the salty, ancient ocean he reigns. He tastes like power. Like opulence. The magic in the water is so strong it begins to ring. Shiro swears, the more he kisses Lance, the more he can _taste_ his magic.

Lance clutches the human’s wrist tight, holding tighter the more he savors Shiro’s warmth against him. The coolness of the god’s lips are refreshing to Shiro. He nearly looses himself to the pulsing magic coursing within and around him. He leaves Lance one last savoring peck before opening his eyes. Lance’s eyes are far slower to open, his slipping magic aching like a heartbeat.

It leaves the god panting and flushed. He licks his lips as Shiro tilts back and away.

Trembling on the brink of a laugh, Shiro’s voice is darker than Lance’s wide-blown pupils.

“If my repayment wasn’t enough for you sweet fix, let me know. I’ll be happy to provide.”

He’s sure to lock his eyes with Lance’s as he runs his tongue over his lips. He grasps his attention undivided, licking the homing powder in his mouth off his metal fingers like each time before.

The Captain, upon returning to his vessel, does not give himself time to consider his previous actions. He rows faster than he ever has before. He pays attention to the exertion in his muscles, his deep breathing, the setting of the sun and nothing else. Nothing else, for he doesn’t know where else his thoughts would lead if he let them.

Just because he can escape his thoughts now, doesn’t mean he’ll escape his thoughts later.

Powerless is Shirogane to the nightly thoughts that descend.

His mind is too active. His eyes are wide open staring at the ceiling. On his bed when he returns home he lies still and tense, but the blank white of the ceiling provides no answers.

_Why can’t I get Lance out of my head?_

The smooth luster of the god’s skin still shines in Shiro’s memory. His own mind betrays him as it thinks _all of Lance’s body was carved of stone._ The fluid marble of Lance’s body lines, and the precious stones set in his eyes. Lance is a hidden sea pearl, over which many men would find themselves greedy. The clear scaultrite of Lance’s higher pitch, to the fresh jade when he holds his voice steady.

The steady timber with which he calls out to Shiro pulls him in. It pulls him under. Shirogane knows he is too weak to try to divert his thoughts, or to push them elsewhere. When he remembers the cool points of Lance’s fingertips, fervently contrasting with the fire in his eyes- Shiro quickly succumbs. His eyes slip closed.

His wrists tingle in remembrance of Lance’s gentle touch over them. For all the lives he’s taken and the fear he’s wrought, his touch was so soft over Shiro’s skin. The slippery film casing his fingers made for a strange sensation, but not altogether unfavorable.

Shiro’s mouth slips open as he remembers how the sensation felt over his lips. Like kissing the soft ripples of a twilight lake, Lance’s kiss was bracing. It was chilled. It set Shiro’s very nerves aflame. The same mouth that curved in retribution, then softened to receive its heat from a warm-blooded heart.

Shriogane imagines himself taking the coldness from Lance’s lips and his very soul. He wonders if he could swallow it down.

He imagines himself thinking too keenly on swallowing Lance’s taste for too long.

Stubbornly Shiro keeps himself laying back-down on his mattress. He doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if he’d tossed and turned. As the night wears on and his thoughts don’t disquiet the temptation grows, but he doesn’t give in.

Lance’s out drawn sigh plagues him. His roaming hand taunts him. All the ways that Shiro could think to have him _frightens_ him.

It has been so long since he’s shared contact in such a way, fabricated though his situation might be.

It is a long night for Shirogane.

 

—

 

Every meeting following brings a new element for Shiro to handle. As if he weren’t juggling his thoughts enough. The next time Shiro dives, he taps on the clear dome again. He greets his friends, reassuring his safe return. (Never promising.) After he bids them well he ambles to Lance’s throne room, where each meeting following brings frivolity to their conversations more.

When their talks had at first been terse, stiff and political, now gives way to casual chat. Gossip, Shirogane considers to be a better fitting word.

Where at first Lance’s and Shiro’s distance was far and cold, has now warmed into a constant exchange of touch. After Shiro savored that kiss from Lance, it seems that that is the thing for which the god seeks next. When the man enters the throne room now, he doesn’t wait for permission to approach. He takes a seat by Lance’s side. Not only does the god not mind, he encourages it.

Every time Shiro now slips into Lance’s kingdom, the god tries to find ways to keep his touch closer and closer. The man wonders if Lance is trying to keep himself subtle.

The delicate fingers wrapping around Shiro’s wrist are not. The beckon of Lance’s eyes are not. The creeping hand which starts at a wrist, steadily moving up until it reaches the pull of the man’s neck from his shoulder; Lance cannot in good conscious call that “subtle”.

After enough visits, Lance foregoes the pretense of subtle entirely. Blatantly he begins to let his hands wander. Shiro permits it.

The pretense of discretion breaks when Lance’s wandering hands begin to travel farther. No longer do they stay roaming around the human’s neck or shoulders. Greedily, they trace over the muscles concealed by Shiro’s shirt.

_My skin is concealed. My… body is not._

Shirogane watches as Lance’s tan hands skirt over his clavicle first. They must have been discussing something like the weather; mundane. It gives Lance just enough excuse to make their conversation more interesting. Shiro keeps pretending to talk, and Lance keeps pretending to listen, but his hands move steadily downwards.

It takes all of Shiro’s strength of will not to gasp. He longs to know what is running through the god’s mind.

“Is this why you’ve come, Shiro?” Lance’s voice suddenly wedges. “To distract me from all of my duties?”

“I’ve only come to talk,” the man says. He says it, and it comes as a reminder to himself. “Since warring didn’t work, I thought to try a different approach. You’ll forgive me if I can’t resist my curiosity about you.”

Curiosity? Very true. Shiro knows that the best lies always take root within truth.

“And you haven’t gotten sick of talking to me, yet? You’d be the first.”

And Shiro- Shirogane pauses. The hand pressing along his chest doesn’t stop, but Shiro’s reply does. Lance’s words sounded far _too_ true. Vulnerable. It is within this moment that Shiro remembers how little of Lance he actually knows.

His mouth answers for him, mind working automatically. As they continue their game however, Shiro stops to consider the things about Lance he undoubtedly knows.

Shiro knows that Lance is a god. He knows that his body was born but his power was not. Shiro knows that Lance loves his people, even more than the power he was given. He knows the power within Lance gives him authority to change forms at will, and when he takes his mer form, he enjoys wrapping his coarse tail around Shiro’s legs. Shiro knows Lance’s kiss leaves him breathless and subdued; much like the water he swims to get to him. There is a thin hierarchy in Lance’s kingdom. There are sunken ships, chests and cargo that house it.

Yes, yes Shirogane knows these things of the kingdom, but what of _Lance_? He knows that according to Allura’s word, the god is not the way he was before the war.

Captain Shirogane knows that Lance needs him for something. Captain Shirogane knows that he needs to focus. He finally responds to Lance’s honest expression. “How could I ever get bored in your presence, Lance? You’re so mysterious.”

Trust, trust, trust… too much Shiro feels he’s being offered.

“I’ve never been called mysterious before,” the god hums.

This fragile trust, Shiro is nervous to break. “I think you ought to be called everything mysterious, beautiful and more.”

“And how would you know what I deserve?”

“I don’t know,” Shirogane shrugs. “That’s what makes you mysterious.”

Satisfied with the note he’ll depart on, Shirogane returns to his boat with a smoldering smile.

Mystery, truth and trust. These are the lines which blur ever more, the longer Shiro stays.

 

—

 

Lance is a master at getting what he wants. As it is, he wants to keep Shiro close. On the god’s lap is Shiro seated, casually draped over the edges of his throne. Shirogane wears his air-helmet like a cloak. Lance wears a smile like an unsheathed sword.

After Shirogane greeted his friends in the prison, he entered Lance’s space, not stopping until he stood face to face. Lance had greedily tugged him closer. And now, here they stand.

Only just fractionally more substantial than the weather, Lance speaks of his family. Interesting and expansive though it is, Shiro often finds himself fighting the urge to sigh. That is, until Lance begins to mention the family not blood-related.

It’s interesting to the human that Lance thinks some of his people as his family. The more he rambles, the more Shiro understands.

“The sharks also do my bidding,” the god says at length. “Well, they did more when Terra and my waters were still… friendly. I ask them sometimes to go and just listen to what the people are saying.”

“What people?”

Lance laughs brightly. “You know! Just _people_! Anyway, I’ll ask them to hang around the villages, try to keep a low profile. I ask them to listen for any gossip or rumors happening around the kingdom. You and your land-dwelling ways make the best dramas.”

“I’m not sure whether to feel flattered or condescended,” Shiro smirks.

“Feel however you want.” Lance says as he patters his fingertips down Shiro’s abdominals. “Anyway, when my sharks come back to me, they always have the most interesting reports.”

“Oh? And what do they say?”

Lance’s hand lies flat. “They say your people have a rumor about me.”

“Probably.” Shiro agrees. “What rumors do you hear?”

“They say I’m a blood-thirsty changeling of the deep.”

Shirogane snaps his jaw shut.

Lance regales his servants’ rumors. “They also say the surface dwellers call me cold and cruel. Their stories claim I have teeth sharper than your jagged cliffs. That my voice carries the ocean’s tide. Because of my power, I’ve gone mad.” His eyes beseech Shiro’s. “Is that what you’ve heard? That I’ve gone mad? Is that what you think?”

Currently, Shiro is thinking a great many of things. Shiro has heard and was even tempted to believe all those rumors and more. He speaks no word of it to Lance. Instead he confesses,

“I don’t think you’re mad, Lance.” Shiro asserts, “I think you’re beautiful.”

“Hah. ‘Beautiful’, he says. Come on. When you go back to your barracks I bet you hear it all the time.”

The human shakes his head. “You’re beautiful. I knew it from the first moment I saw you.”

Slower, weaker, Lance scoffs again. For some unnamable reason, his scoff irritates Shiro in a personal way. This point, he will not let rest.

“This war puts us at different sides Lance, but it doesn’t make my desire any more divided.”

Carefully he grasps Lance’s chin, angling it down so their lips may meet once again. But then, something sharp snaps within the god’s mind. Something changes in the water. Maybe he sees a look in Shiro’s eye; maybe it was something that Shiro was missing that turns his mood so drastically. In one moment he was cooing and relaxed. Now he holds himself stiff, wrenching his head out of Shiro’s light hold. His marks shine violent.

“The war- you- you…” Lance closes his eyes. His gills shutter and flutter over his neck. His eyes are vicious when he opens them. “That’s what this is about.” Lance has something like scales fall from his eyes. “That’s what all this has been about. You don’t think I’m mysterious or anything like that. You think I can give you answers. You think I’m just another piece to a game. This isn’t about me, or the rumors or what you and I think. This is about the _war! I knew it!_ ” He brutally shoves Shiro away from him.

_Oh hell._

Shiro has been quite literally sniffed out.

“Lance… Lance please.”

“Please _what_!” He roars, the power in his voice forcing the water out of his face. “Haven’t you asked enough? Taken enough?”

“Lance!” the Captain cries. “You have to know, I-“

“I have to what,” Lance heavily exhales. Shiro will give him this; that Lance hasn’t smotehim yet. Regardless, the conversation that surely awaits him is unlikely to be pleasant. “I have to hear you out? I have to listen to your pathetic refusals, and that all of-“ Lance waves a hand around aimlessly, “-this, wasn’t part of your plan? Whatever plan that was.”

“It _wasn’t_ , Lance.”

“Oh my gods, save your breath.” Lance pinches his fingers at the bridge of his nose. “Save it. Save it.” He groans. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I… I was so stupid.”

Shirogane feels the heating water pinch the nerves at his arms. His neck begins to sweat. His heartbeat is thick as Lance’s marks turn deeper.

“I can’t believe this.” the god mutters and mutters. He talks himself deeper into despair. “I don’t know why I let this happen. Again. What are you going to do now, Shiro. Now that I refuse to be part of your ploy.”

“I’m not-“

Lance lays his head on the right arm of his throne. His sigh isn’t forceful. It’s more as if the air slowly seeps and leaks out of him. The gods arms are clasped tight around his body. The black-tipped tail wraps around itself.

“I was so stupid.” His breath is little more than a tendril of a whisper. “I knew this was too good to be true.” His whisper just barely bubbles to the corner of Shiro’s ear. “ _I knew you were too good to be true._ ”

Captain Shirogane can still try to save this. “Lance. This isn’t what you think.”

“It isn’t? I really don’t see how ‘this’ can be anything other than you trying to trick me into a…” Lance’s lips turn sourly. Sardonically his words escape. “Into a false sense of security.”

“Do I even have the chance to explain myself?”

“What’s there to explain.” The god looks up, but there is no white ceiling to evade answers. There is only the ever-changing, always shifting waves of blue. “To think I let myself get tricked _again_ …”

Stupidly, Shirogane is incredulous at the lack of Lance’s anger. Whenever anger and wrath he expects, he lately has not been receiving. King Kolivan’s anger he foresaw, yet all he experienced was his darkened disappointment. Lance’s anger he would now predict; even welcome. Yet, there is only the cool ripples of the god’s self-contempt and dissatisfaction that pervades.

Lance doesn’t dismiss Shiro. He doesn’t cast him away, he isn’t exiled. The Captain thinks maybe bearing the discomfort of Lance’s state is his punishment.

In the silence, Shiro itches to release himself from the suppressive aura. In the silence, Shiro sees an opportunity. He takes it.

“You have to understand Lance.” The man keeps his voice small. “Whatever it is you thought I did, or tried to make you do, I did it all for my people.”

“And what about my people, Captain Shirogane. What about mine? Me and my people have lived for ages, far more than you and yours. We are the ones that know. We are the ones that have suffered.” The god’s voice and marks have both turned to ice. “How much more powerful am I over you and your worthless king and kingdom! Don’t try to belittle what we are when you speak of sacrifice.”

“Both of us have lost. I know that. I do.” The struggle to keep Shiro’s voice small battles against the size of his conviction. “But Terra is not an infinite kingdom. Not like the sea’s, not like yours, Lance. So many lives have been lost. Both from the surface and below.”

“Okay?”

Ah. Lance’s voice turns _brittle_ as ice as well.

For victory, for hope, for success, Shiro presses on. “I couldn’t bear it if another Terranian life was lost. And yes sailors, too. They’re about the only ones that we have left.”

Shiro’s hopeful words have the opposite affect. Instead of endearing himself to Lance,the god testily rolls his eyes. He shakes his head.

Lance’s eyes widen, and their color shifts to one Shiro’s never seen before. Electric violet- his irises cut clean through the dark water. His emotion builds, so that Shiro no longer feels like he’s sweating. No, Shiro is no longer uncomfortable with the heat of Lance’s water. He feels as though he’s preparing to be cooked alive.

With the power of all the moons passed before him; with all the age of the sands his water has worn over. With all the booming force of the magic in his blood, Lance’s voice resounds deep in the throne room and far beyond:

Lancce _snarls._

“ _When kings upon the main have clung to pride_

_And held themselves as masters of the sea,_ ”

A swelling white light builds where Lance rises from his seat.

“ _I've held them down beneath the crushing tide-“_

His light is an ink blot, spilling closer to Shiro. He screws his eyes closed tight.

_“-’Til they have learned that no one masters_ ** _me_**.”

The light washes over Shiro like the strike of a palm.

—

 

Shirogane opens his eyes weakly.

His palms push against pale, hot sand.

Conclusively, he considers this mission failed.


	5. The Game

Though Captain Shirogane’s last mission failed tremendously, it doesn’t mean his missions may stop. On the contrary- he must work twofold to compensate the progress he’s lost. His hope, vision and drive may not stop.

_I just have to find another way._

To make amends with Lance? To ask for forgiveness? Shiro doesn’t know how well groveling will fare. He doesn’t know if he should still go to Lance’s castle at all, leaving on such a note that he did.

He still finds it strange that Lance let him leave. Again. Well and unharmed. Why does Lance keep permitting him escape? No, no- escape is not right. The god lets Shiro _depart._

_But why?_ Shiro’s mind demands the mystery be put to rest. _Why is it still me, and me alone? What does Lance keep having me around for? What is going on? Why does he_ need _me._ Shirogane demands his mind to think no more.

The Captain knows he still has a station to fulfill. He has a duty to his king, his crew and his men and his people. He knows he cannot let his missions end. For who else would take his place? Now more than ever before has Shiro put himself in a delicate position. One that no one else may replace.

Shirogane’s friends still need release. Families still need to reconvene. Lance still needs apprehending and defeating, but in this task Shiro finds himself least impassioned.

Reluctantly he tells King Kolivan the state of his mission out of necessity. He doesn’t tell the man of his waning zeal to seize the god, and hopes to the other gods in creation that Kolivan cannot tell. In this matter, he predicts Coran to be the more commiserative listener.

Correct he is.

“I took the King’s orders because… well at first, because I wanted to.” Shiro explains as he finds himself in Coran’s suite. He holds his hands behind his back, standing at attention. “I had to go, but I also wanted to learn. I only knew what Lance did, not who he was. Not really. When I voyaged with Iverson and Holt I fully expected to drown with them. I was fully prepared not to return. But here you and I are,” Shirogane sighs. “Though I never expected any of _this_.”

“What is ‘this’ that you’re referring to?” Coran patiently asks.

“This is…” Shiro’s eyes look about as he finds the most appropriate word. “This is out of my control.”

“But you still want your victory, don’t you?”

It shames Shiro how long he hesitates to answer. “I want to see Terra safe. I want to stop seeing fear win.”

The magician hums. He snaps his mustache. “And you have this terrible need to know, don’t you.”

“I do.”

He holds up a finger. “Then learn, you must!”

Shiro’s arms drop beside him. “What?”

“It’s killing you, isn’t it? All this mystery? What’s happening in the sea, what’s happening with Terra?” Coran takes a step closer. “I know Allura has spoken with you about how Lance used to be. That he was quite amiable before this whole mess began.” He lowers his voice theatrically. “I think you’ll find many of us, especially us magicians, wanting peace again between Terra and the sea. Allura was definitely a tough nut to crack, but the others were far easier to convince.”

“Is that right…”

“It is, my boy!” Coran beams. “It was easier to sway their minds when I reminded them of Archamage Alfor’s idea.”

Shirogane thinks he likes the way this is going. “And that was?”

“Peace. He never wanted to kill or subdue Lance. When push came to shove, he had to take action. Returning to the way things were was ideology that came too late. With you now at the bow of this ship, Terra now has another chance for reconciliation.”

_Reconciliation._ Shiro does like the way that sounds.

“I’ll see what I can do, Coran.”

He doesn’t know if he can handle the pride in the man’s smile.

“I know you’ll make us proud.”

After clapping a mighty hand on Shiro’s back, Coran shoos him out of his suite. The Captain’s mission commences promptly underway.

 

—

 

Lance’s waters are silent as always when Shiro goes under. It’s too silent. Or rather, the wrong kind of silent. There are no sharks or patron whales to escort him at all. The frank absence makes him feel more keen to the water; like how it feels sullen under the setting sun.

_How can a sea feel sullen?_ Shiro’s thought is rhetorical, until he remembers who and what rules it. The implications do not bode well for him.

Shirogane bypasses the air prison when he reaches the castle. Only a handful of floating orbs are lit in the underwater village. Swimming becomes an even more vigilant and difficult task on account of the dark.

Lance’s throne room is much the same when Shiro glides in. Upon his throne the god looks no different; not in his expression or countenance, at least. Shirogane then takes in the sight of his desaturated glow. He fights the sting of guilt that rouses within him.

“Ah. It’s you.” Lance sits no straighter, but slumps no further. His voice is thinly tainted with contempt.

_It’s still contempt, however thin it is._

The Captain sighs. “It’s me.”

“I really don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t know what to tell you. You come with a peace treaty or something?”

Lance’s jab at humor settles acidic to Shiro. The man counters tersely. “No. I didn’t. Although peace between you and Terra would be ideal, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I’ve come to apologize.”

It is quiet. A different nature of quiet than when Shiro swam to the castle. This void feels contemplative from Lance’s side. Shirogane is most intent not to break it.

Lance continues to turn the human’s words over. “To apologize?”

“Yes. That’s right.”

“But no one’s ever come to apologize.”

“I see.” Somehow this does not surprise Shiro. “Well I have, and I’d like your forgiveness. I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like you can no longer trust me. I didn’t mean to trick you, I just-“ Shiro coughs. What truthfully did he want? He cannot hope for this conversation to remain professional if he admits he wanted Lance’s attentions. “I just wanted you to see a better side of me.”

“You think I should forgive you?” The god’s hands tighten. “Do you really think I should believe you, or trust you again? Give me like, one good reason why I should believe anything you say.”

Honestly, Shiro bows his head saying “I can’t. For your own well-being at least, I hope you believe me.”

The time for honesty is nigh. The time for honesty is _now._

“Honestly Lance, the first thing I ever wanted to do was learn. I wanted to learn about what hid beneath the water. I wanted to know who and what was taking my sailors from me. I wanted to know what this thing was that I had to be so afraid of.” Captain Shirogane hopes more than ever that his promise in sincerity is delivered. “I never wanted fear, though. Yes I heard rumors about you, but I fought so hard not to believe them. I ignored them, because too many in Terra live in fear. I came, because I wanted to learn. I wanted to learn about _you_.”

Already once burned, Lance is hesitant to give into Shiro’s assuring words. “Is that it?”

“Well, no.” Shirogane grants. “At first I really did come to…” He doesn’t finish. Neither are keen to relieve those days. “And to free my friends, of course. I wanted to release them. I know I can’t… I can’t release any of yours- your people, servants, whatever you call them- but my people do want peace. Especially the magicians. Despite all the animosity and hurt, there are a lot of people on Terra who want to fix what’s been broken.”

“Oh they do, now?” Lance’s eyes are still weary, but sharpen more suspiciously. “That’s funny because, you people on Terra are the ones doing all the breaking. Especially your magicians.”

Shirogane tilts his head. “You’ve said that before.” Lance’s words don’t resonate soundly. “But that can’t be right.”

The god huffs. “What, you think I don’t know who’s been hunting and torturing my-“

“Hunting and _torturing_? Lance! Terra magicians would never do that! Alteans may be battle-hungry sometimes, but never like that.”

“‘Battle-hungry’. If that’s what you want to call it.”

Shiro’s eyes pierce across the uneasy waves. “It’s not a euphemism. I know Archmage Alfor. There’d be no way that he or any part of his influence would tolerate that. There’s something not right, here.”

A mighty tail flips over the edge of the throne’s armrest. “I could have told you that a long time ago.”

“No. No.” The Captain shakes his head. “I mean something _isn’t right._ Something more isat work here.”

Just as soon as Lance had gotten comfortable, he holds himself back up again. His tail twitches irritably. “What are you trying to say?”

Shiro looks away. “I don’t know.” He thinks it’s probably the most honest thing he’s said to Lance at all.

“You don’t know…”

Suddenly, Lance’s accounts come back to him. Shiro thinks of when he said “purple magic.” How they were terrible and frightening, these magicians. The man’s confusion only increases. If Shiro’s memory serves him well, Altean magic is blue and pure, much like Lance’s. He’s never seen it any other color. He wouldn’t call the Alteans “terrible” or “frightening”, either. In fact, Shirogane finds most Alteans quite beautiful.

Captain Shirogane thinks that there is another battle to be won.

“I have to go,” he declares.

The god’s indifference still reigns supreme. “Okay. You do that.” He plucks off his diadem and twirls it around with his finger. “But you should probably hurry back. You aren’t going to be able to schmooze with your friends for much longer.”

Shiro’s whole body stops stiff. “Oh?”

“Yeah. There just so… annoying.” Lance scowls, “Especially that know-it-all black haired one-“

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice is flat.

“Yeah, that one” the god agrees flippantly. “They’re boring too, and they’re taking up space in the cell. I don’t have any use for them. Besides, I need to start making room for when I catch your apparently not-Altean magicians for their crimes.”

“Very well.” Shiro says without looking back. He can’t bear to see the look on Lance’s face.

“Better come back soon so you can free them. Who knows when the day will be-“

“I understand the point, Lance.” 

Gruffly Shirogane shoves homing powder to his tongue, then brings himself home in an irate spin.

He wonders who this mysterious group of people hurting Lance’s people might be. He wonders why so suddenly, Shiro’s friends and Lance’s prisoners have run out of time.

Shirogane wonders why Lance didn’t bring himself any nearer during this mission. He moved no closer, much less touched Shiro.

_I wonder why I’ve payed attention to something like that at all._

The night he spends trying to sleep is long. The morning he will no doubt spend researching will be longer.

 

—

 

“Purple magic” doesn’t give Shiro a great breadth to start investigating, but it’s something. He takes a day to house himself in the King’s public library. A day he fears will not be nearly enough for comprehensive research. All at once Captain Shirogane is overwhelmed with the sections of the history of Altea. Then there are the spell books of Altea, (which may be superfluous but couldn’t hurt to source.) There are shelves upon shelves of ancient magic that have come and gone. Shiro traces a finger over the spines of the books he peruses, not finding a single pertinent title. There are no leads for him to find.

Shirogane considers that maybe he went about researching this the wrong way. Perhaps what he seeks won’t be found in any documented books, but in traded whispers in cramped corners.

After a few days, Shirogane begins to let himself linger around the castle. He makes bi-weekly ventures to see Lance, during which the god is slowly warming back up to him, but returns home to venture. He lets himself dwell in the less traversed parts of the castle, clothing himself not in revealing shirts, but in thick cloaks and darkened hoods.

In Lance’s waters he sought to catch undivided attention. Around Kolivan’s castle village, he can only hope his body merges sight with the wall.

All of the Captain’s sneaking and snooping returns in void. Not even whispers of Lance are uttered. He supposes it’s old news to the kingdom by now, since he’s being so quiet.

Before he took his orders to find Lance, Shiro could not stand to be in the presence of rumors. The very mention of the word “gossip” made his blood boil. Most times it would vex him so much he would have to leave the room. At present, he is finding his perspective completely polarized. In the absence of rumors and gossip, Shirogane itches with agitation. Every moment without some word to point him to a lead only serves to bring frustration.

The Captain brings his frustrations to the King.

“Your Majesty,” Shirogane bows, breathlessly charging into Kolivan’s quarters. “There’s something I have to talk to you about. It’s about Lance.”

Off in the corner stand First and Low Admiral Antok and Thace. They too become privy to the confidential news.

“What about Lance?”

“It-“ Shiro sucks in a breath. It is difficult for him to explain. “There’s something more happening in the sea that neither of us know about. Things that Lance has told me and what I know of Terra aren’t adding up.” He doesn’t know how to communicate his misgivings grave enough. “I suspect foul play.”

The King sharply turns his head, addressing his men. “It’s just as I feared.”

The three of them confer without words. Shiro’s frustration implodes out of his hands.

“What? What is it? Do you know?”

His majesty is slow and steady to elaborate. “I think I may. You’re too young to remember Captain, but you must remember when Terra annexed its land? You humans, us Galra and the Alteans all joined as one.”

_How could I forget one of the most grueling units of my education?_ Shiro snidely thinks. He nods.

“Then you must also remember that Alteans head the progress of magic and technological advances.”

“I do, Sir.”

“And you also remember that Alteans are not the only ones that can wield magic.” Kolivan raises a brow. “Correct?”

That, Shiro does remember, but often forgets.

“Correct.”

The King approaches Antok, who gives him a tablet lit with a faint fuchsia glow. His musing still unravels. “Galra can do magic, though many say that Galra magic is just stolen Altean magic; perverted and distorted with dark intentions.”

Shiro doesn’t know if he wants to stay to hear the rest of it unwind. Kolivan concludes, regardless of his unease.

“These magic-wielding Galra are called druids.” The tablet is tilted down so that Shiro can see. Blurred photos of lightening-hot magic slide by one by one. “Staggeringly they have been growing with more activity. There hasn’t been this level of activity in many years. I’ve had some of my men spy into their workings. It was during one mission that First General Ulaz was taken and perished. Already these ‘druids’ are becoming stronger than any of us expected. They are a threat to Alteans, humans and Galra alike.”

The Captain keeps his eyes fixed on the images. _Purple magic,_ he notes. _Lance mentioned purple magic._

“Your Majesty,” Shiro dubiously begins. “Have you ever seen an Altean cast magic whose purple looks like that?” He points to the images.

Kolivan’s words drop like the blade of a guillotine. “I have not.”

Shiro’s instinct and intuition he has never felt stronger. “Lance told me… he said the people taking his sharks had purple magic. Magic like these druids. Do you think-“

“It could very well be.” The King saves Shirogane from having to complete his thought. “When I first gave you orders I didn’t think you would have to get involved in this. Now, it is too late.”

“Are you saying I have new orders, Sir?”

The King returns the tablet to Antok. He stands battered but decisive, nearly vindictive as he charges Shiro. “I’m saying you need to be careful.”

Quickly after few more words of deliberation, Shirogane is dismissed. There was relief as he found his questions answered; immediate though it turned to fear. Shiro knows who and what has been taking Lance’s sharks, but not why. He doesn’t know for how long.

The time for truth has long been expired. No longer will Captain Shirogane dive to learn; he hunts to know.

 

—

 

The relief that washes over Shiro is tangible, zipping up his slip seal suit instead of pulling on a netted shirt. Yes, perhaps the suit is conforming, but it is armor. Not adornment.

Under the harsh, white mid-day sun, Shiro takes himself and his vessel to the open waters. He doesn’t sail anywhere near the coast’s shore. In reality, he stays as far away from it as he can. Knowing the true antagonists and initiators of the battle between Terra and the sea, Shiro stakes out in waters less traveled.

Without a compass or map Shiro wouldn’t know where he is. Being so far from Lance’s lair, not even his servants could guide the man back to safety. It is fortuitous then that safety is not the objective.

_I’ve never though of myself as a conflict-seeker, but I guess there’s a time for everyone._

Bobbing gently in the water, the Captain brings his vessel closer to where he hopes the danger might be. He keeps himself alert, looking for any disturbance above or below the surface. Harsh purple magic becomes the new object of Shiro’s affections. These terrorizing druids are the ones who’ve captured Shiro’s eyes.

These druids, far sooner than Lance, are the ones he will see defeated. Killing the ones to start this terrible war will be much more satisfactory than killing Lance. Shirogane will see his satisfaction achieved.

More stillness, the sea offers. Now that Shirogane has come with the express purpose of finding trouble, it evades him. He can’t help but feel like it’s avoiding him.

None of Lance’s servants come to escort or aid Shiro. The surging waves remain tranquil. The tides near the shore must be changing. Shirogane has lost track of how long he has been waiting. He prays he didn’t miss anything important by staying on the surface, as opposed to diving below.

Shirogane’s sigh is heavy. It is so cumbersome in fact, that he almost misses the faint splashing out of the corner of his eye. He jerks himself up, ripping his binoculars from his satchel up to his eyes.

_It’s them!_

Hardly even a knot away, a desperate struggle ensues. The Captain recognizes the angular purple markings from First Admiral Antok’s tablet. Shocking purple magic cracks through the white foam of their scuffle. Clad in black and pink, their colors overwhelm the smooth grey of the shark battling against them.

The druids are even more frightening than Anotk’s holographs depicted. Without a doubt, these “magicians” are the ones who started the whole mess.

_They must be why Lance needed me._

Shiro throws down the binoculars. He slips into the water as smoothly as he can. The strength of his vengeance will carry him out.

Just beyond where he can reach, the Captain sees the weeping and gnashing of teeth. The shark opens its mighty jaws. The druids throw out a spell, and tase the creature’s jaw shut. Its eyes glint white with pain. Shiro can only pull himself so quickly through the water.

Four of the cruel druids have the shark surrounded. They’ve flipped it on its back, further stunning its senses. The shark twitches with residual tremors.

_To electrocute a shark underwater…_

Gripping its pectoral and caudal fins, the druids hum a short chant. A portal opens through which they pass, and it whisks them all away. The portal wraps itself closed. It leaves nothing but faint lavender light in its vanishing.

It leaves nothing but Shirogane stunned and raging where he stands. He is too irate to appreciate his irrefutable knowledge of witnessing the sea’s capturers. Shiro _knows_ now, but was only a witness. His by-standing does little for the sake of either kingdom. Captain Shirogane arrived too late.

This failure grants another chance at victory. Shiro is certain he will make those words prophetic. As he voyages home, the terror in the animal’s eyes won’t leave him. They remind him too much of his crew’s; Shiro unable to help them as well.

Helpless, he will leave Terra or Lance no longer. Now that Shirogane knows the god and the land have a common enemy, he becomes reinvigorated for success to be the only outcome he sees.

When he lays down to sleep in his bunk, he rests fitfully. The druids are the ones to blame, but why? What do they want?

The shark’s horrid fear haunt Shiro all night. His multiplying questions make him toss and turn.

_Next time,_ he promises himself. _Next time I’ll know how to save my chance._

For Terra, he makes his promise. For Terra, and a bit for Lance, too.

 

—

 

The Captain doesn’t know if the druids have any rhyme or reason to the timing of their attacks. Because of this, (and on account of his irritable excitement,) he neglects to consult King Kolivan before he sails. He stocks up on any supplies he deems necessary, but says little in regard to his abrupt departure. In the still-dark morning he throws himself out of bed, zips up his seal suit, and rows out of the dockyard before the dawning sun.

A few fish stir around as he sails, but he bids them all their ignorance. Lance’s involvement predicts more needless bloodshed to the man. As formidable as he is, Shiro can’t afford himself or his people to be driven to more political hell if they take the wrong life.

The Captain chastises himself for his foolishness. Foolish, foolish he is for setting sail with only a slap-dash plan. He doesn't know all the workings of how he’ll defeat the druids. As he stakes out again, he takes all his time waiting fleshing out a plan.

Shiro has brought Coran’s invisibility necklace. He still has a fourth-filled pouch of homing powder in his satchel, which also houses various spells that may be useful. The runes on his back are nearly faded, but every conversation he’s had with Lance made him feel more and more sensitive to the sea’s notions. On his hip rests his diving dagger. The Altean charm in his arm is built for combat. He has his charisma and wit stockaded in his head. He can make it work.

In his boat he keeps vigilant. The sun pans across the sky, cataloging every hour that Shiro stays. Nothing but the _swish_ and hush of the water accompany him. Sea birds pass overhead, unwelcome distractions when Shiro wants to keep his eyes forward and down. Spotted white fills the sky, its reflection choppy over the bottomless blue.

Drill after drill, Shiro runs through his mind. He has to do so much with so little.

_You did it to yourself, you know._ The man thinks it, and doesn’t know when he became such a nag.

Hours pass. Tension rises. For the sake of peace and finality of two grieving kingdoms, Shiro’s boredom and patience finds worth.

Frantic activity breaches from behind where Shiro faces. Instantly he crashes into the waves, feeling the pull on his tendons the moment he kicks himself towards the commotion. Shiro’s guilt, passion, hope and ire make his muscles burn as he swims to where an abduction makes the water crash. He cannot and will not let the druids get away again. Not again, not again, not again.

There are only three of them this time. The swordfish (or its approximate from Lance’s influence) thrashes wildly against the clawed points of the druids. Eerily the magicians move. Empty their eyes, movements and bodies look. Husks for corrupted magic is all they are. Catalysts of greed. Shirogane’s fear of Lance stemmed from the god’s ancientness, but these druids emanate _wrongness_ with their very being.

_What do they want?_ The Captain supposes now will be the only fitted time to ask.

Wrapping his charmed necklace around his wrist, he moves with the water's pulses. He works the noise of the creature’s thrashing to his favor, masking the sound of his approach. With not another moment to spare he disrupts the party.

Shirogane takes a selfish moment to take pride in his muckraking.

Fluid and rushed, Shiro slips the bracelet off his wrist. It dances its way over the shark’s angled pectoral fin. As it transfers he shoves its body out of the way as hard as he can. Its body spins freely out of the way. The druids look about, finding nothing. Nothing, except Shiro standing where their last prey was.

The Captain is surrounded. The druids’ eyes narrow. This particular situation didn’t find its way into any of Shiro’s schemes, but he refuses to fret. He makes this situation another chance to get what he wants.

“Stop!”

The druids’ clawed hands are raised and their postures mean. Surprisingly, they heed Shiro’s words. The man says his piece before the chance escapes him.

“Why were you attacking that innocent creature?” he cries. “How long have you been terrorizing Lance’s kingdom? What do you people want?”

Slowly their claws are lowered. Slowly their heads are raised. Shiro thinks the Galra druids are regarding him, but he can’t tell behind their marked masks. They don’t blink. Their unnerving presence is enough to make any mortal back away. Unfortunately, there is nowhere for Shirogane to turn.

Serpentine they circle around Shiro. Heavily their robes gape and concave. Their whispering voices are metallic. Their words slither coldly into the man’s ears.

They speak as one, “ _What do we want, little mortal? Is a mortal little like you going to offer it to us_?”

“No,” the Captain vehemently shakes his head. “No I haven’t come to give you want. I just want to know. I want to know so I can understand why you’ve been pitting the sea and Terra against each other for so long.”

Their short snicker is belittling. “ _How could a little mortal like you possibly understand the greatness of eternal life?_ ”

_Eternal…_ what?! Shirogane looks to all of them in terror. He cannot correlate the culling of sharks and the obtaining of eternal life. _How do those coincide at all?_

“I understand the idea of eternal life, plenty.”

Inch by inch, the druids encroach towards Shiro. Their claws scrape against his air helmet. “ _Then you would understand how necessary Lance’s offerings are._ ”

Every word in that previous sentence curdles in the man’s stomach. He feels palpably sick.“I doubt that Lance was _offering_ you the people of his home. Do _you_ understand? Those sharks are his people! The sea is his home. _Their_ home!”

“ _Don’t you see little mortal_ -“

Shirogane’s mind, body and soul broil.

“ _-Lance’s ‘people’ are the very ones that hold the great secret_.”

Shiro gasps. He clenches his eyes shut.

“ _They are necessary for our trials._ ”

However hard he tries, he cannot shake their words away from himself.

“ _The god is greedy_ ,” the druids hiss like the forked tongue of a rattlesnake, “ _hoarding all his power to himself._ ”

The druids are crueler than Shiro can bear to believe. Their truth he is too weak to accept.

“You call yourself magicians,” the man croaks. “But all you are are thieves. You’re _monsters!_ ” He roars.

“ _We are superior_.” The druids are monotone. “ _We seek ultimate, sempiternal knowledge. We will know all. About us, you know too much_.”

Shiro’s wrists suddenly bind behind him.

“Wait. Stop-“ He pleads.

Their jaws, their mouths, their lips don’t move. Nothing but their swirling hands move, but he hears their chanting voice all around him:

_You know too much. You know too much. You know too much. You know too much._

A new portal opens. Their harsh fuchsia magic crackles between their hands. Grating, grating the unified voice chants. Shiro mourns the loss of hope for restitution, submitting himself to the will of his new captors.

The druids are close enough that Shirogane feels the flap of their robes on his legs. Clawed hands hover over his taut arms, almost crushing the integrity of the right’s metal frame. Their beaked, pointed chins crowd around Shiro’s face until-

“ _It’s YOU!”_

Shiro is sent tumbling head over heels in the water as a blast of magic hurls his way. As he rights himself, he stops when his vision untangles. Heaving, righteous and blinding is the most gorgeous sight he’s ever seen.

Lance’s hand cools off with the magic he just blasted at the druids. As it lowers, he catches the human’s staring.

“ _Shiro?”_ The god’s eyes soften for a scarce moment, then freeze over harder than they were just moments before. “You bastards better not have hurt him, too.” For a second he meets Shiro’s eyes. He nods his head, urging the man to get behind him.

The druids still fight to unravel themselves from their bulky cloaks. Galra magic receives Lance’s like oil into water; incompatible. The feedback from refused magic acts like a sonic boom. The druids were blasted even farther back then Shiro, scrambling them from each other and Lance. Lance uses their confusion to his advantage.

“Your begging won’t be enough to give you my mercy the next time I see you in my waters.”

With another precise blast, Lance pushes the druids back into their own portal. The hazy purple wraps over the three of them. In a blink, the portal flashes from existence. Only the ebbing of waves remains.

Lance slowly, cautiously turns to face Shirogane. Now that the danger has passed, the man lets himself get a good look at the god beholden of him.

Exerting almighty power, Lance’s beauty is divine. His eyes are over-taken with beaming white. The same light shines forth from all the marks on his body; on his collarbones, his chest, his arms and hips. Lance’s hands softly hum from the force of their blasts. His eyebrows are drawn close. His focus does not waver from the spot the portal was. Silken and smooth, his hair flows about his head that holds itself right with majesty. Lance’s beauty is power, and his beauty is powerful.

Shiro wants to crumble into himself. He longs to fall into Lance… or better yet, take him in his arms. The man’s first and foremost desire is to hold his savior as long as he may, but remembers too late- that fabricated game they are playing no longer. The distance between them is unbearably far, yet Shirogane cannot bear to pull himself nearer.

Lance and Shiro face away from each other, catching their breaths. In a second faster than a heartbeat, the man’s vision plays out too many scenes in which he breaches their gap. He keeps his visions to himself. He lets Lance make the first move. When the moment passes and their ichor fades, he finally does.

Slowly, as his glow recedes back to its amiable blue, the god turns his body back towards Shiro. Anger has dissolved of him as far as Shiro can tell. Rapidly it gives way to flummoxed disbelief.

“The druids… they. They were behind this.” Fragile are the edges of Lance’s gills that flutter near his neck. “They were the ones. I just thought that… you, you humans and Alteans and all of Terra turned against me. I assumed it was you the whole time. I didn’t know what I did wrong. But it was them. It was them the whole time. They started it.” His marks dimly shine. “They started it.”

“I didn’t know, Lance.” Shiro reaches an arm out. “None of us knew. If we did, we’d-“

“I never trusted Galra magic. Not for a second.” Lance’s face pinches. “I didn’t know who to trust anymore, but you came.”

“I… what?”

There’s more in Lance’s tone, in his distant eyes, in his closing posture that Shiro doesn’t feel privy to understanding.

“You came alone, didn’t you?” The god may as well be speaking to himself. “Like you always do. After your crew- after I killed your crew, you’ve always come by yourself.”

“Lance?”

Their eyes still haven’t met. Shiro’s hand still has not reached over. Something about the god is glazing over, and it doesn’t let his neck turn from where it still watches the long-gone portal.

“Why.” Lance asks.

The Captain is out of his depths. “Are you-“

“ _Why_?” Lance demands. His hands begin to shake. The water begins to chill. “Why are you alone? Why did you come at all? Why did you try to take on three druids by yourself?”

Hysteria is not something Shiro feels equipped to handle spontaneously. He knows neither what Lance wants to hear, nor what he needs to hear.

“Did you actually think you could go against them and _win_? Are you crazy? Did you really want to die that badly?”

“No, Lance.” At the very least, Shiro knows he has to quell the manic before it grows any more. “I really didn’t know what I was getting into. The King has stopped giving me orders weeks, more like months ago.”

Cold then hot. Emptied, then overwhelmed. Shiro can’t keep up with Lance’s swinging mood.

“Then why are you even here?” Lance finally yanks his head away from the void point in the water. “Why did you _do this?_ ” His finger points emphatically in its place.

_Why did I do this?_ Shiro keeps Lance’s gaze within his own. _Why did I do this?_ Shiro thinks answering may be the easiest truth he’s shared throughout this whole mess. _Why did I do this_? Shiro answers,

“I did it for you.”

The god’s entire upper body trembles.

Shirogane would like to think he could soothe it, if only Lance would let him. However, the settling of truth is too belligerent to coalesce in his mind.

Weakly, Lance shakes his head. His mighty tail twitches. “No, you-“ his arms wrap around his torso. “You wanted to kill me. Apprehend me. You wanted to seduce me, and take me for my secrets. You wanted me dead, you wanted to see me _bleed-_ “

“No. _No,_ Lance.” Shiro fervidly denies. “I was ordered to- to apprehend you. I wanted justice, yes. And maybe my anger and grief drove me to seeing that end, but I just wanted my family back. I wanted to my crew to come home safe. I wanted my friends to be okay.” Shirogane’s truth comes as a shock to them both. “I’ve only ever wanted Terra and the sea to be okay.”

“I don’t understand you, Shiro.” Gathering tears threaten to run over his cheeks. “You human… you-“ He stretches out the fingers in his hands. “You land people I will never understand.”

Blandly Shiro chuckles. “I don’t think I’ll understand, either.”

He looks over to Lance and is overshadowed by all the things he feels. Lance is ancient, he knows this. He knows his power his great, almost infinite. He knows he commands the sea with just a flip of his hand. All the creatures within it bow to him with just a breath from his mouth. Lance is a god, righteous and just by merit. Never once has Shiro considered him anything less. Yet now, the longer he looks, Lance’s power seems like a yoke than a pedestal.

Lance is great, and terrible, and mighty. Here in the water, fighting to accept the truth of this jumbled war, he doesn’t look it at all. As he fights to bring his eyes to meet Shirogane’s, the man never thought he would look at Lance and think him _frail._

Captain Shirogane never thought he would look to Lance, and have to stop himself before he did something he would regret.

“I don’t understand why you _keep_ coming back.” Lance whispers, “I don’t know why I let you keep coming back.”

“I thought you said you needed me.” Shirogane attempts at a joke. Its reception falls short, so he takes his leave. “I suppose that now you have your questions of ‘who’ and ‘why’ answered, you won’t be needing me anymore. I hope you know just how awfully these druids are to Terra, too. They are traitors to everything Terra believes in. I still have to come and release my friends of course, so for them I _must_ return. For now, I’ll be taking my leave.” The Captain inclines his head.

“I don’t understand you at all.” Lance’s last words.

Shirogane’s desire regrets having to depart from Lance. His rationale regrets letting his desire fall this far. His desire feels cheated that he touched the god’s smooth suede skin not once during that interaction. His rationale chides that he’s been thinking so much about it at all.

With a last pathetic wave he whisks himself back to his vessel, leaving Lance alone.

As he rows home, he knows that that was not the last he’ll see of the terrible druids. He knows the war has not yet ended. He knows that is not the last he’ll see of Lance, either. When he anchors in the royal dockyard, he doesn’t know just how significant his deeds have been.

He doesn’t realize the _why,_ that he misses Lance so very much.

 

—

 

“Hey, Shiro.”

Lance is waiting for Shiro in his prison. Every person in the air dome looks between the two of them, hardly daring to breathe. The man is simply thankful he can bypass the formalities of speaking in the throne room.

“Lance. I didn’t expect to find you in here.”

The god buzzes out a long breath from the seam of his lips. “Yeah, well. I thought it was only fair that I would give you a heads up.”

“Heads up?”

“Time’s up, Shiro.” he blandly announces. “Since I finally know who’s really responsible for all this, and I know you’re not like, on their side or anything- wait. You aren’t secretly working undercover for those druids, are you? You said you can’t do any magic before…”

“I can't and I'm not. I’m not working for the druids. I would never. I would never.” His promise comes quick, much like the glance he makes to Keith’s and his friends’ direction. “But speaking of magic, I’ve been wondering something. How did you know to come save me from the druids so quickly? Did you already knew where I was?”

Lance closes in on himself. Uncomfortable. “I-“ He runs the smooth pads of his fingers over his tail’s rough cartilage. “With the water, you…” His eyes look everywhere and nowhere. “It’s not important.”

Shiro believes his words as much as he believes the sun won’t rise tomorrow. “I see.”

“It’s not important! I saved you, the druids will be brought to justice,” the god proudly proclaims, “and now it’s time to say goodbye to your friends. I don’t want them squatting in my kingdom anymore.”

_Ah. So that’s what this is about._

Shirogane wonders if it wouldn’t behove him to remind Lance that they only occupy the prison outside of their free will. Maybe he could politely and diplomatically offer they be released with their free will intact; not released by the implement of capital punishment. Grace and mercy he could encourage Lance to exercise. Shiro would be more than willing to guide the captives back home, and their contention could finally be settled on this disillusioned war.

Lance has other plans. “What are you waiting for? You wanna say your final words or not.”

“You’re really not giving this up, huh?”

“Clock’s ticking, Shiro.” Lance takes his leave.

_Damn. Guess it really is the time, isn’t it._

“Very well, your Divinity.” Calling Lance that title churns Shiro’s heart in a faint and nostalgic way. It reminds him of what they are- a god and mortal, everlasting and finite- and what they will never be.

The cold of the sea seeps into the Captain’s pores, chilling him from the outside in. It slowly freezes his heart first. He pays the cold heavy-set of his heart no mind, holding his head still high and striding without pause to the dome where his friends and people ignorantly await their fate.

He arrives at the prison. Hunk is the first to notice him. Consequentially, Hunk notices the different burden Shiro carries. The man jumps to the worst conclusions, but Shirogane is grateful Hunk keeps his suspicions internal.

Always, always is the Captain the bearer of melancholy message. He hates it, abhors it. In his self-pointed hatred he doesn’t speak. For moments, wasted moments Shiro knows he cannot regain, he is silent in consideration of how best to break it.

Katie- Pidge speaks into it for him. “This is it, isn’t it?” 

Shirogane cannot meet her eyes, so he looks to the space just below them. “Lance was gracious enough to give me time so say goodbye.”

Hunk speaks up. “Goodbye.” Now that the silence has snapped, he fills it with raising hysteria. “Goodbye, what does that mean. Like, did he mean ‘goodbye’ goodbye? Like forever goodbye? Goodbye like _sayonara_? Goodbye as in we’ll never say ‘hello’ again-“

“Hunk.” Keith interferes. “Now’s not the time.” He nudges him out of the way. “What exactly did Lance say?”

Shiro shakes his head. “He said the clock’s ticking.” He cringes painfully, regretful and ashamed he couldn’t do more. “You guys-“ he addresses the crowd at large, “all of you would already be released if I didn’t know Lance’s sharks would hunt you immediately after you were. The open water doesn’t give me enough control. I couldn’t ask the King or Antok to give me an armada-“

“With all due respect, but the hell? Isn’t that exactly what the _open water_ needs to be controlled?” Pidge is incendiary.

“Maybe, but that’s not what I wanted.” Shiro mollifies. “The last thing Terra and the sea needs is yet another battle to clean up after. I couldn’t risk even more bloodshed. No, what we need is peace. Especially now, now that we know who the real enemy is.”

“I heard about the druids. Is it true?” Allura lays a tender hand over Pidge’s tensing shoulders.

“It is. King Kolivan and High Admiral Antok are looking to lay their forces on them as we speak.”

“So if the real problem has been found, then what is still Lance’s problem? Why are we still here?” Allura’s steadying hand on Pidge’s shoulder has quelled her, but not enough to prevent her demanding grief.

“Shouldn’t discovering the druids be enough for Lance?” Hunk asks with sifting hope.

Keith offers pointedly, “Who here has ever understood what Lance has ever done?”

“What more could Lance want?”

The grief rises and rises, and the other prisoners start to catch its wave. Myriads of emotions clash and work against each other. It sinks Shiro farther and farther from his depths. He tries to control the situation. He wants his presence to be a balm to their frets, but he has only served as a catalyst for chaos. Shiro wants the power to bring peace and not panic, but that is not his station. He is only but a man. He is only but a messenger.

“I don’t know.” The Captain hates his admittance. Hunk’s weepy eyes help in no way to bolster his condition, but Allura’s and Keith’s determination to listen urge him forward. “I don’t know what’s going through Lance’s mind. I wish I did, I wish, but… I only know as much as you do. I think…” he ponders, “I think maybe… well. Even though Lance is a god, this war has gone on for a long time. Even for him. I think maybe he’s tired.”

“Of?” Keith flattens his palms against the dome’s clear material.

“Of everything. I think he just wants to wipe his hands of the surface. If that’s it, then I really don’t blame him.”

Keith’s flat palms tighten to fists. “Shiro… you-“

Captain Shirogane doesn’t let his friend finish his thought. “I think I’m tired too.” He sighs as he longs to break the barrier separating him and his friends. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry _you all_.”

“Captain?” Even Allura’s gentle voice keeps a sharp lilt.

“I’m sorry, everyone.” Shirogane mournfully elaborates. “I’m sorry I can’t give you the answers you need. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you, that I didn’t try harder. I thought that by the time I had- had…” _seduced Lance,_ “I thought that by the time my missions were complete I could compromise better with Lance. I’m sorry I assumed so much.” Not usually is he one to focus prolonged on his regrets, but the longer he looks into the faces of the ones he’s failed, the more his regrets pour out from him. “I’m sorry for all the families that will never be whole again. I’m sorry to fail Terra again. I’m sorry that it’s _too late._ ”

Silence. Brittle silence. The people are hushed. The temperature of the water drops even more, caging Shiro’s heart even tighter. He feels his heavy arm locking up. Apprehending Lance had failed. Demanding, threatening, shouting at Lance was no more affective. Seducing Lance reaped the most benefit, but in the end, those methods were failed as well. For all these things, shame and rueing tide over the Captain’s heart most.

Tepidly, Hunk’s warm voice rises up.

“But it isn’t too late, is it? Were not dead. Not yet, anyway. We get to say goodbye, and we’ll be all together. It could be worse. Probably.” He wipes his running tears with a large hand. “It kinda sucks that I couldn’t say goodbye to my family.” Shyly he adds, “or Shay.”

_Shay must be someone who’s captured Hunk’s affection,_ Shiro assumes.

“Oh, Hunk.” Allura sways to face him. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this at all.If only my curiosity and need to be right wasn’t so great, then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“The only thing I regret is not being able to save my my dad,” Pidge interjects. For one so young, Shiro finds it backwards that she would be the salvation to her family, but the fire in her eyes tells him that she could have done it. “I sailed out to try to find answers and _help,_ but I only got myself in trouble. For all I know, my dad and brother could be dead by now.”

Her words harpoon around Shirogane’s guilt. “Katie…”

“Shiro-“ Pidge perks herself up from her withering confidence, only to collapse with Shiro’s unspoken condolences. “Oh.” She breathes for a minute. “Oh. Well…” She fiddles with the rims of her glasses. “I always kind of knew it would happen, you know. Being in King Kolivan’s army and everything.”

“Your father was a good man.” Shiro hastily prostrates himself. “Maybe even the best knight I had the privilege fighting beside.”

“Yeah,” Pidge sniffles. “Yeah he was.”

Allura draws her into her sturdy arms. “Ah. Now we both have fathers lost to these waters. Hope is such an expensive thing in the face of loss.”

“I was really hoping to perfect that beignet recipe back home,” Hunk adds his own bemoaning sniffles. “But um… I know some losses are, uh, harder… than others…” Shirogane hums. Hunk then singles Keith. “What do you miss?”

“My bed,” he says after a fleeting moment’s deliberation.

“Oh come on dude,” Hunk heckles. “That can’t be it.”

Keith heats. “I mean, sure I miss my mom and dad, too.” Then he cools. “But I don’t see how missing them is going to do anything. It’s not going to get me any closer to them. It’s all pointless.”

Shiro infers more meaning than Keith said, but doesn’t press it. He adds his own thoughts in Keith’s stead.

“I think what I’m going to miss most is what Lance was. What he was, and also, what he could have been. Imagine if the druids never took what wasn’t theirs to take. Imagine if Terra and the sea hadn’t had all this blood spilled. I think I like the idea of Lance still being friends with Terra.”

Allura, still gripping Pidge tight to her, corrects Shiro in her gentle-sharp voice. “Lance was more than friends with Terra. If all of my reading is to be believed, Lance was more like a comrade to us. Whenever he was willing and able, he fought our battles alongside us. If he ever felt particularly magnanimous, he fought our battles _for_ us. The people of the land and the people of the sea sacrificed so much for each other. It’s what made the bond so strong.”

“Then maybe that’s why Lance went off the deep end the way he did; cause he felt so betrayed.” Hunk shrugs.

“Imagine how much more unified Terra could be, with an ally like that protecting the sea.” The more Shiro thinks of what could have been, the more his reality rots. “It’s so terrible that things have to be the way they are.”

Keith interjects, “Allura. What else did your books say about Lance?”

The woman looks around. She exhales, and settles down, getting comfortable as she unwraps her arms around Pidge. Shiro sits as well.

_It’s story time now, apparently._ He muses.

Grandly, Allura opens. “Like I told Captain Shirogane before, Lance was always known for being flirtatious. He was known for using flagrant flattery to get his way, even when he didn’t need to. When he wasn’t using romantic flattery, his diplomatic amicability gained him high positions of political standing. Of course, that was all generations ago. No one has seen Lance take his bipedal form since before the war, and he’s had no need to use it.”

“As a human, or bipedal or… whatever,” Pidge pontificates, “couldn’t he have used his political power to tear Terra apart from the inside?”

“He likely could have,” the woman agrees. “But his people could not have. Only Lance has the power to change his forms. And besides, the farther he is from the ocean, the more his power fades. Prolonged separation is ill-advised if he wants to keep full capacity of his magic.”

Keith speaks with genuine confusion. “You Alteans do magic too, don’t you? Why didn’t you take your magic to him?”

Allura bristles at Keith’s thinly-veiled accusation, but calmly explains. “We did. Several times. The more we fought however, the more Altea found its magic not… compatible with Lance’s. He quickly found ways to use our power against us. Once my father had perished, we lost basically all of our hope for peace between us. Altean officials are still scrambling to find my father’s replacement, I’m sure.” She ends her thought on a decline.

Shiro wants them to have time to mourn. He wants to give respect where respect is due, but he also doesn’t want mourning words to be their last. He can’t let it. There’s a moment for silence he gives them all space for, then he asks Allura to resume.

“What else was Lance like?”

“My uncle Coran- you know him, Shiro- he… he constantly said Lance had an eye for fine things in life. If it looked, smelled, felt or tasted good he probably partook of it.”

_Is that what I am to Lance?_ Shiro thinks. _A ‘fine thing_ ’?

“He also said Lance had a great, big heart. Greater than the sea he lived in. Coran was Lance’s biggest apologizer, even in the midst of all the atrocities. He reminded me to keep hope and patience first, before all else. He said before the war, Lance was a giver. Not a taker. Well, he said it but not quite in those words.”

Shiro hears the words “lover, not a fighter,” taking the place of “giving, not taking”. All of Allura’s words ring true so far.

“Coran said Lance was the very essence of water. ‘Water runs through all things’,” she reminisces, “‘and may give life and death to all’. That’s what he said Lance was like.”

“…Running through all things?” Keith guesses.

The woman rephrases. “Connecting things to each other. That’s what Lance did. He loved people, he loved the surface, and he loved pleasing the people he was with. He was a god of connection and harmony, but like the sea, he’s also seen as one of the most formidable gods of death. Like water, Lance can give and take away.”

Of the group surrounding the woman’s narrating, there is a collective sound of ascent.

Shortly, Allura snorts. “Yes. And like the water, Coran swore Lance had beauty without age.”

Shirogane empathically agrees. The group’s eyes snap to him.

_Ah._ The Captain had emphatically agreed out loud.

The reprimands are immediate, and _loud._

“Shiro!”

“Dude, what…”

“Shiro-“

“Captain, do you-“

Then the noise instantly dissolves.

“Gossip, gossip, gossip. That’s like all you surface people ever do.”

Captain Shirogane doesn’t have to turn around, or feel cold presses of lithe fingers to know who’s company just joined them. He ignores the jab, and counters saying to his new company,

“How much did you hear?”

Lance, Shiro’s chilling company can play the human’s game. “Enough.”

The Captain can just hear more scoldings for being so impudent with the one about to deliver their fatal sentence. Still, he wants to keep playing the game until he sees an option he hasn’t before.

“Then you’d have heard enough to know that you don’t have to do this.”

The god is silent for a long time. His eyes don’t move anywhere from the spot they’re trained on Shiro. The only motion he makes is involuntary, as his gills move with the thick _swishhh_ of water.

Without a word, he moves. He raises his hand.

A blinding light bleeds out before Shiro’s eyes, quickly spreading around the dungeon room, then beyond. Its white violently vaults into the man’s brain, it feels like.

Shirogane is blinded fully, silently, painfully.

He feels blinded for a long time.

All is still.


	6. The New Shore

Shirogane groans. For as familiar as he is to Lance’s magic, its impact never lessens. His vision is spotty with blue and green shapes, while his ears ring a high pitched bell. All of his senses feel assailed. He wonders if this time, he has truly gone to the other side of eternity. Quickly he succumbs to the morose, too tired to fight against it after all that has happened. Perhaps in the forgiveness of death, his friends and family will forgive Shiro his shame.

The shame that descends on the Captain is brutal and immense. Promise after promise did he make to Keith and Allura, to Pidge and Hunk. Promises he made to King Kolivan, High Admiral Antok and Low Admiral Thace. Already has he disappointed High Captain Holt and Iverson. His promises have fallen short on his commanding officers of the Galra, and to the sheep flock of Terra. Now, it is too late to beseech anyone their forgiveness.

The man is weak. He succumbs. He closes his eyes, trying to find rest within his eternal slumber, when another groan lifts up to the heavens from beside him. Shirogane wrenches his eyes open. He looks back, seeing a weary, raven mop of hair lift up to look at him.

“Keith?”

Keith moans. “ _Shiro._ Is that you?”

A kind of confused blubbering grows louder on Shiro’s other side. Disbelieving it asks, “Am I alive?”

A feminine voice asks most composed of them all, “Captain Shirogane? Are you here? What has happened?”

The man picks his head up from the cold, damp surface it lies against. Nerves, tendons and muscles struggle against him but he prevails. Willing clear vision unto himself and sturdiness into his arms, he takes in the scene around him as he sits upright. If it weren’t for the tingling in his fingers and the details he could see, he would have profusely professed he was raptured.

“I think we’re…” Grey skies drift overhead. Damp, spongey wood lightly gives beneath Shiro’s fingertips. “We’re all back at the royal dockyard.”

Hunk is the next to sit up. Patting his hands all over his chest and arms, his eyes widen more and more. “So we’re _not_ dead?!” His confusion waxes into elation.

“Yeah we might not be but my glasses are,” gripes Pidge as she holds up her cracked glasses.

“Those… really are beyond redemption, aren’t they,” Allura commiserates.

Keith keeps himself on edge, eyes not straying from their inspection of his hands. “I don’t trust this. Why are we back here? And where’s Lance?”

Like an omen or an answered prayer, a grey fin appears out of the surface of the water. It splits the water in mellow silence, approaching Shiro’s anxious party. With his draining strength he pulls the prisoners that have begun to rouse out of the water before the shark can arrive. He hopes it doesn’t arrive on an empty stomach.

Just moments before it reaches them, it slips back into the depths. The water _plinks_ after it goes, the arbitrariness of it soothing nothing for Shiro.

A cyan glow emerges in its place. Shiro looks back and forth between the water and the people.

“Keith, I want you to go to the King and give a report.” He executes. “Allura, Pidge- I want you to to lead everyone to dry shelter, keep them rounded while Hunk, you’ll give them food, blankets or whatever resources they need.”

Pidge is the only to vocally oppose. “What’ll you be doing?”

“I’ll be in in just a while.” The restless water beckons him closer. “I just need a moment.” It is unintentional, but beneficial when routine bids him say, “Dismissed!”

Pidge, Keith, Allura and Hunk chant as one. “Yes, Sir!”

They corral the prisoners into the castle, ignoring the shifting gazes of knights, sailors and soldiers passing. Then, in the entryway into the castle’s sparring room, a man stands stricken and slack-jawed.

“ _Katie?_ ” A man cries.

Pidge whips her head to the familiar voice. She throws herself into the man’s arms. “Matt!”

Shirogane looks upon Pidge’s and Matt’s teary reunion, praying that all of the prisoners’ home-coming will be just as restorative. The siblings cry in each others’ arms. The passers by let them have their moment.

When the coast is clear, Shirogane ambles back to the edge of the dock. A circling cyan glow awaits him. He sits down, then swings his legs over the ledge. Two glowing eyes arise. They regard Shirogane expressionless, after which Lance’s whole face comes into view.

“You better not make me regret this.”

If Shirogane were not so accustomed to Lance’s behavior, if he were even fractionally more shocked, he would be maniacal and overwhelmed with hysteria, laughing until his tears freely flowed. As it is, he only just manages to puff air from his lips and shake his head. He rolls his eyes. Emotions are too numerous for Shiro to feel only one, but keeps a handle on them for his own sake.

The first thing he dares to ask is, “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?” Lance runs a hand through his dripping hair. “Recite my best scene that no man will ever matched, or randomly save all your mortal souls?”

Regretfully for the god, Shiro is not in the mood for his imperial attitude or games. “Why did you lead us on? If there was any chance that you would let us go free, why cause the scene you did? Why not just kill us all before?”

Shirogane must have gotten too hasty. He must have demanded too much of Lance. He must have angered the god in someway, _again,_ for Lance does not answer. He closes his eyes. The god says no word, and Shiro is too resigned to even fear the worst.

It does not come.

Instead, Lance closes his eyes, which prompts Shirogane to, as well. He opens his eyes again wide.

“ _Lance_?”

The god reaches his clawed hands up to the dock, both of them radiant with powder blue light. Each gem in Lance’s diadem glows their assorted color, making a rainbow descend over Lance’s crown, down to his pointed tail that lifts out of the water. As he pulls himself up, the rainbow of light swirls and swirls around him, wrapping and weaving over his whole body.

The light warps Lance’s face first. His light blue glow recedes starting from his head. When he opens his eyes next, they no longer tint with supernatural blue. Instead, Lance blinks up at Shiro with eyes blue like a mortal human. When he relaxes his jaw, Shiro can see his teeth shrinking and dulling, no longer speared points like the sharks posses. The god’s gills flatten closed. The markings on his neck and chest dim.

The Captain doesn’t know what to make of it at all.

Beautiful and colorful the rainbow still shines, while blue light continues to descend farther. After the light pushes down against Lance’s abdominals, it hovers around the start of his tail. Lance pushes himself fully out of the water. He then floats before Shiro, letting the transformation fully take him over.

Colors that Shiro has never seen erupt when Lance’s tail begins to change. Its color bleeds from a silvery grey to a warm tan, loosing its coarse texture. It splits in two. Lance looses the black points of his tail, and feet emerge from where they last were.

Lance is unmistakably a god, for as far as Shirogane dares to look, he is unmistakably well-endowed.

The god takes a step onto the dock, approaching like a vision. Streaks of rainbow colors wrap over him one last time. He opens his eyes, and all light and color have absorbed back into the diadem’s stones.

Lance breathes. 

He has become a man.

Sitting down next to Shirogane on the dock, he too throws his new legs over the edge. Becoming frustrated that his toes cannot reach to slash the water’s surface, he at last turns to meet Shiro’s eyes again.

“I really don’t know why I didn’t. Why I didn’t do it.” Lance’s voice is soft and low. “Why I didn’t kill you. I had so many chances to do it, too.”

The god doesn’t sound dejected that he missed an opportunity. He sounds disinterested in the notion altogether.

“You chose to show us mercy. Maybe that’s why.”

Shiro’s voice feels innocently earnest, yet his sight is earnestly guilty as he stares and stares at Lance’s smooth, tan legs. He can’t avert his eyes.

Lance must be blind not to notice. Thankfully he doesn’t call it any attention. He buzzes air from his thin lips, but Shiro doesn’t know if his words are any better.

“I guess hearing you all talk about me reminded me of something important. You reminded me who I was. I was… I was really cool back then! I had parties in my kingdom like, all the time. There was so much life and color. Warmth. I had so much love to give back before I knew what the druids were doing to my people.” He tilts his mouth in a clever grin “Or maybe _you're_ just saying you’re just as lost as me, why I saved all your guts. ‘Mercy’ is pretty convenient.”

The Captain lifts his head. “What’s wrong with mercy?”

“It’s about as good as a peace treaty,” Lance says. “It’s… pretty words and pretty promises, you know. People will promise and say they’ll do something, but in the end, how much good did it actually do?”

 _The immortal does care_. It is the conclusive decision at which Shirogane arrives. “Letting us all free is a lot more than a peace treaty.” Lance mummers, not completely believing. The man adds more conviction. “Do you know what you did? You gave our people and your people another chance to be at peace again.”

“So I’ve surrendered.”

“Hardly.” Lance raises a brow, so Shiro rescinds. “Well, the prisoners yes, perhaps. That wasn’t giving up, though. I think this is… starting over.”

“How is ‘starting over’ and better than surrendering?” he scoffs.

“It’s much better!” Shiro exclaims. “Surrender means one side has lost to the other. Both Terra and the sea have lost too much to each other for surrender to mean much now, but starting over means just that. No one has to lose anything more. It’s a pretty good deal, if you ask me.”

“You make it sound so easy, Shiro. No loss. Starting over. What about the druids? They’re still on the loose, this isn’t over-“

Shirogane promises, “We’ll catch them.”

“What about all my people? They need to be freed, too. I can’t imagine how it’s been like-“

“They will be. Your home will be restored.” He cups Lance’s shoulder. “I can’t promise things will be like they were before the war, though I will say, there’s a chance that things could be even better.”

Lance squints his eyes. He looks down the path where all the humans, Alteans and Galra alike have slunk back into their homeland. Would his POWs return home the same way, or worse he wonders. The god thinks of the way he’s been humbled too many times by this human. Lance overestimated Shiro’s first intentions and paid dearly for it. He has put the blame on the entirety of Terra for too long, ravaging its people and resources, only to find that the druids aren’t loyal to Terra at all. 

It is difficult to overwhelm a god, so Lance cannot help himself when he clenches his drying hands tight. He mutters virulently, “oh you… _you-“_ taking Shiro’s face in his hands.

“Mm!”

Lance quickly urges the man’s lips open with his own, kissing him long and deep. Now that there is no water, only air between them, Shirogane may savor the firmer pressure of friction. He savors too the warmer pulsing of the god’s heated blood. The moisture building between their languid breaths Shiro savors too long. So long does he savor in fact, that when they part, he cannot deny the faint dizziness in his head.

“What was that for?” he asks.

Lance doesn’t answer. He deflects. “I mean it if you meant it.” Suddenly he shoves Shiro back, then covers his distraught face with his palms. He groans. “I mean…Augh! You’re so infuriating!”

“So…” Shiro wagers. “That was a hate-kiss?”

“No!” Lance groans again. “Maybe? I wasn’t supposed to kiss you at all!”

The man chuckles. “I can take it that this means you forgive me?”

“No!” Petulant is Lance’s voice, until he registers what Shiro has said. He takes his words back, “I mean, no. No, there’s… there’s nothing to forgive you for.”

Shirogane has been long done with evading truth and not tempting ill fate. He no longer cares to speak of only gentle or correct things in the presence of the demigod. Boldly he declares, “Remember when I first saw you face to face? I swore I would kill you.”

Lance takes it in stride. “I remember. How could I forget? I even think you meant it, in the beginning, at lest.”

“‘In the beginning?’”

“Mhmm.” he nods. “Then you stopped meaning it. Quickly, too. Even if you really did try to seduce me and whatever, you still didn’t have any _murderous intent_.” Shiro can hear his tone’s quotation marks. “Besides, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t do it alone.”

The man is not ashamed that he thought about it- he had orders to. The shame does apply however, with how much he’d thought about it.

“Oh? That means you could-”

“-Not easily.” Lance stops the conversation before it can begin. “The process is long, complicated, and what you land dwellers would call ‘old.’”

Shiro just laughs. “Well good to know.”

Now that Lance’s marks have faded, they settle into his skin like misshapen freckles. They’re spattered all across his body. Because they’ve lost their glow however, Shirogane cannot gauge their color towards Lance’s mood. The man looks to Lance’s face and is relieved he doesn’t have to. The blush that takes the mark’s place is all the clue he needs.

Churning and grueling, Lance grits out “If it makes you feel any better, I forgive you.” His voice becomes so soft, Shiro has to lean in close to hear. “But really, I should be asking you to forgive me.” He sighs. “I’m the one who took your people from you. I- I started it all. Didn't I. It was me. It’s all my fault.”

The hand resting on Lance's shoulder squeezes. “Lance, no. It’s going to take time to find restitution with everything that’s happened, but if you really want someone to blame, blame the druids. Immortality only belongs to those who have been given it. Everyone should know that.”

“What if I were evil? What if I really was a bad guy?” Lance raises. “Would you still say I deserved immortality?”

“I’m possible. You’d never be evil. Not truly evil, anyway.” Of this Shiro is certain. “Before too long, you would have seen the truth of the matter. Keeping good ties with the surface is in your best interests. That, at the very least would have brought you back to your senses.”

The god throws his slender legs over Shiro’s lap. “You’re so sure.”

“Of course I am.” The Captain smiles. “You were angry, and you were grieving- though you went about it the wrong way-“ he pokes at Lance’s frown, “your near-immortality gives you more days to live. Every day as you live, you get another chance to achieve success.”

The god tilts his head. “For their is no other option.”

In his shock, Shirogane nearly thrusts Lance back into the water. “How do you know that!”

“I was friendly with Terra, once.” he sniffs. “I heard your knights say it back to each other all the time.” He holds up a finger. “If you try to make this a thing where success is grace and mercy though, I’m about to become plenty unfriendly with you.”

“No, no, we can’t have that.”

They laugh, and settle back into a comfortable seating position.

Together they sit and talk at the end of the dock. If there were any other knights or sailors passing by them, they wouldn’t know. They rearrange themselves numerous times, seeking comfort and pressing closer as their time stretches on. Shirogane knows the people of Terra could use his help. He also knows that in the capable hands of Duke Keith, Mage Allura and engineers Pidge and Hunk, he doesn’t have to be the sole provider for Terra’s fate anymore. Shiro basks in Lance’s newly acquired heat for a few moments more.

As they talk, any stiff or stilted word has evaporated from between them. Laughter and jesting easily flows. Shiro can tell Lance is actively listening. He no longer feels like their conversation is a game to be won. _This,_ his mind hazily agrees, _is what victory should feel like_.

 

—

 

When Captain Shirogane speaks with the King and his admirals next, Keith is present in the planning room with them. The fact that he’s here with them is not surprising, but the speed at which Shiro forgot he was in line for the Galra throne, and the speed at which Keith forced himself to recover from Lance’s imprisonment most certainly is. The King, Captain and Duke all stand near the table, the other two hunched over while the Captain stays upright. Like perpetual shadows, Antok and Thace flank the corners of the room.

The lights inside are dim. Papers are strewn and messy across the table’s surface. Shiro had entered to Kolivan and Keith muttering back and forth, but when he crossed the threshold, their voices ceased. The King had beckoned him closer then their voices resumed. Their muttering they dismissed, but didn’t make their exchanges any less quick or heated.

“Keith. these demented magicians have been undercover within Galra ranks for decades now. Do not be so hasty to think you can stop them overnight.”

“You just came home, Keith.” Shiro says tiredly. “Why are you talking about taking down the druids already? Why are you even in this _room_?”

Kolivan lifts his head to look to Shiro. “Be assured, his presence was against my orders as well. I told him he needed more rest to be of any good, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”

Shiro knows how Keith’s obstinance is like.

“You both know I’m still here, right.”

King and Captain both look to the tempestuous Duke with varied expressions. Keith jabs his finger towards the maps and papers outlining the schematics of their upcoming plan to hem in the druids.

_Ah, yes. Back to business._

Shirogane matches Kolivan’s and Keith’s posture, hunching over the table as they move colored, representative pieces of them across the kingdom’s map. The more they talk, the more pieces they place on the board. The more they talk, the more they all realize it will be necessary to have Galra, Altean and human involvement. More intel is needed before anyone can, in good conscience, attempt to intercept the druids.

“‘More intel?’” Keith screeches. “How much more intel do we need? If these guys have been around for decades, shouldn’t we know about them by now?”

Shiro begins placatingly, “Time and knowledge aren’t always mutually exclusive, Keith.” 

Kolivan silences them both. “You don’t understand how they operate. These ‘magicians’, they work in the shadows. They are the very shadows themselves, and extricating them will take a level of grace never before achieved. You must get that through your head before put yourself or anyone else in danger.” The King’s voice is severe, leaving no room for bartering.

The younger boy offers an impatient “ _fine_ ”. They all return to their drafting. With each line of thought brainstormed, Kolivan commands that they all follow through with it, seeing every particular plan to its finality. The King is sure to leave no variable unaccounted for, assuming only every worst case scenario. He gives charge to Shiro to get into contact with all the external help they’ll need. The more they talk, the more Shiro realizes just how reliant they are on his involvement. Upon his presumed involvement, Shiro frets his case.

Shirogane isn’t disloyal to the crown. He would never think to betray his people; it would be stupid to now, with everything happening as it has. Yet the more Keith and Kolivan talk, the more he realizes he thinks his efforts would be better applied… elsewhere.

Subtly he tries to address it. “These are Lance’s people still, your Majesty. When we stop the druids, we’ll be impacting him and his jurisdiction first. Shouldn’t we bring him in on our meetings?”

Keith groans at the mention of the god, making Kolivan snap at him saying “Yes, that would be wise.” He taps a blue block onto the map. “It’s perfect, in fact. If the druids were to hide in the water again,” he sweeps a large purple hand, “we could position Lance here. Then you Shiro, could-“

“Actually your Majesty,” Shiro cuts in. Every eye in the room snap to him, and is given only a half-second to internally struggle with daring to offer his request. “I think I’d be better suited staying in the water.”

Keith raises a brow. “Don’t tell me.”

The Captain neither confirms or denies Keith’s suspicions. “I hope you’ll agree, Sire.”

“Just what are you proposing, Captain?” Kolivan places the piece he was holding in his hand down, folding his hands behind his back. “You’re needed here, on Terra.”

“I understand.” Shiro does. Truly. “I just think that any good I can do here, I can also do in the water.”

The young Galra duke is thrust deeper into worrisome assumptions. “Shiro?”

The King instantly forms a theory to test. He implements it, asking the Captain “You do remember Lance has maimed and tortured Terranians of all kinds and ages, yes? And if I were to give you orders to stay here? Would you stay, or would you disobey to be in the sea?”

Shiro doesn’t pass or fail the King’s theory. “I am a servant of Terra. I couldn’t disobey our people now, not when we’ve come so far.”

Keith flits his eyes between the two of them. Kolivan merely hums. He doesn’t give orders to Shiro at all, consulting back to their maps and lists of allies until his men are dismissed. As soon as they are, Keith corners Shiro up against a wall. His tone is nothing short of accusatory.

“What are you planning to do, Shiro. I used to be your brother at one point.”

It is good that the Captain has made up his mind before this inevitable conversation. “We are still brothers, Keith. Nothing will change that.”

The Duke chokes up. “I’ll still love you and everything, but I swear if you do what I think you’re going to do, I’ll never forgive you.”

Like any true brother, Shiro doesn’t resist giving Keith a hard time. “What is it that I’m planning to do, again?”

“You’re going to, I don’t know! Run off with Lance, or something!” Keith jerks his hands upwards. “You were gone a long time, talking on the dock with him. You didn’t come back into the castle until the sun had almost set. You had this… look.” His attempt to recreate Shiro’s expression falls short. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen you with that look. Like, ever.” Keith brings his arms back down to fold them across his chest. “What happened while I was a prisoner, Shiro?”

He sturdily grasps Keith’s shoulder in his hand. “You know, I never wanted to kill Lance. Not really.” Shiro recalls. “That’s a lie. Let me try again. I was enraged and murderous when I heard you were captured. Coran- the astral magician, Allura’s uncle- approached me and made me let him join my crew so that he could find Allura when I had my first orders. Before I sailed with Iverson and Holt though, I took a vessel by myself.”

“You did what?” Keith gasps.

“I took a vessel by myself,” the man repeats. “I was angry, _seething_ that Lance had taken people I knew to hurt them. I wanted to see him hurt, too. I almost lost it. I’m glad you didn’t see me when I got that way. I was so angry, Keith, but before I wanted to see him pay for what he did, I wanted to see if he would make his case. I had hoped that by going by myself, I would see if there was even still a sliver of humanity left in him. His sharks got to me before I could.”

“His _sharks_ got to you? What do you-“

“Relax, your Highness,” Shiro teases, “they didn’t do anything but run me out of the water. They ran me out of the water, towards my _ship_. I came back to the castle without ever seeing his face."

“Okay?” Keith bites out. “You’ve already told me all that.”

“And I told you how it was unusual for him, that he kept letting me live?”

The younger man gestures to Shiro’s breathing corporeal body. “Yes. You are breathing and alive. That’s established.”

“Well because it was so _unusual,_ ” the Captain emphasizes, “I think my anger started to turn into curiosity. I wanted to know why he wanted me alive. Lance said he needed me, multiple times, and I wanted to know what he needed me for. Keith, stop… stop making that look. He just needed me to get to the bottom of the druid situation. Which we’ve done. It’s fine now.”

“I feel like it’s not since we’re having this conversation.”

“Keith, what happened during your imprisonment was… a lot.” Shiro runs his fingers over his opposite arm. “At first I hated him. _Hated_ him.”

“Now you don’t. Obviously.”

He concedes. “Now I don’t.”

“And?” Keith demands.  
“And… And that’s why I can’t be with you and Kolivan when you go on your mission.” Keith is trying to put together the pieces and implications of what Shiro hasn’t said. It’s a loosing battle, he knows. “That’s why I need to be with Lance. In the sea.”

“You need to _WHAT NOW_?” a new voice cries.

_Ah. Good. Now I guess I don’t have to repeat myself._

Pidge, Hunk and Allura come marching down the hall where Keith has Shiro cornered. The Captain doesn’t know if Pidge or Hunk have the clearance to be in the hall themselves, but he’s not about to question it.

“Good, you guys are here. You can make him see reason.” Keith says dejectedly.

Soon, Shirogane finds himself barricaded on all sides by his friends, eyeing him like a traitor. Perhaps it’s deserved, but he appreciates their looks no more for it.

“What is this we hear?” says Allura.

“Are you really going to run off with Lance?” says Hunk.

“Have you forgotten we have just gotten out of a war?” says Pidge.

The man lets their questions climb, not blaming them for their panic. He gives them the kind assumption; that is is because of concern for him that they prod so strongly. He waits until their hurt implodes on itself, then answers them as best (and as vaguely) as he can.

“Guys, guys.” He holds up his hands, silently requesting more breathing space. “I’m not running off with Lance. I’m not running off with anyone. I was just telling Keith that I think I would be better use to everyone if I stayed in the sea, rather than fighting on the surface. Besides, wouldn’t it be nice to have an inside man? One that you already trust?”

“I trust you man, definitely. With my life, in fact.” Hunk raises jittering hands, looking ready to grip tight on the hem of Shiro’s cape but resists. “I’m going to be honest though, this is kind of pushing it.”

Allura’s voice asserts more confidently than Hunk’s. “I trust you, Captain. You’ve more than proved yourself to the King and the people, but… are you sure this is what you really want?”

“Are you going to stay in the sea permanently?” Pidge’s voice comes the most shocking of all, raising shyly, strained with concern.

Slowly, Shirogane stretches out his hand to ruffle her hair. She pats it back down again, the same way like she did with her father.

“No, I’m not staying permanently.” He says. _Not yet, anyway_ , he thinks. “While I appreciate your concern, there’s really no need. There’s so much more about the sea that Terra needs to learn. What better role for me than to be its liaison?”

Keith tilts his head. “Is that really it?”

Shirogane keeps a palm on Pidge’s shoulder, but looks to his poor, perplexed friend. “No. not entirely. Remember, I said he needed me.”

“Needed-“ Pidge points. “Past tense.”

“That’s just it. He may have said ‘needed’, and he might not say it any more but… I still think he does.”

No one says anything for a long moment. There are too many energies in the air for Shiro to pick up on a single one. He doesn’t let them bask in it too long, lest their tensions rise again. He breaks the stillness gently, confessing,

“After spending all these months in the water, I really can’t imagine staying on the surface anymore.” No one says a word. No one even dares to gasp. The Captain speaks on. “I’ve served my time for the King, and if I were to be a go-between for Terra and the sea, I still would be able to.”

Pidge turns reddening eyes towards him. “But what about your life here on Terra?”

“There’s no reason life on Terra would _stop,_ ” Shiro gently laughs, “but the life I want to live, is out there in Lance’s waters.”

Mage Allura curls her hand around his neck. Her eyes are as clear and alert as his. Her voice is the only hint that betrays her. “You’re really sure about this?”

Shiro cannot help the honest smile that washes like a riptide over his mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure of something in a long time.”

 

—

 

The Captain swears he’s sure. No one vocally challenges or doubts him, but Shiro can see the apprehension in Keith’s face. He can’t really tell the expressions or approval from King Kolivan or First Admiral Antok, but he can’t imagine them being positive or abundant. As opposed to looking right into their (now cloaked and masked) eyes, he looks just above them. His fingers, metal and flesh, weave over and under each other, keeping his breaths even so the Galra can’t hear how loud his pulse is beating.

In the courtyard, squadron after squadron stand at attention. Each is headed by a lieutenant who all look to Kolivan for their next command. The crashing of the water’s tides are the only sounds heard in that moment, aside from the high whistle of the withering sun.

“On account of Shiro’s beseeching for pardon, the demigod Lance is to be disregarded for capture. His transgressions, put behind you. No more harm is to come to his waters or his creatures. Now, we will apprehend and change the ways of these Galra traitors. There is no time for shame that they have been able to succeed for so long, for today our only option is success for the harmony of Terra once again. Success-“ Kolivan shouts,

-“For there is no other option,” his men and women dutifully respond.

All of the soldiers march out in unison, dispersing in all directions. After they’ve all gone it is only the King, Shirogane and his friends that remain. The Captain meets Hunk’s eyes and they’re already tearing over, while Keith looks well on his way to share Hunk’s fate.

Pidge yells, “Group hug!” She, Hunk, Allura and Keith all accost him, squeezing closer together on all sides. She is the one who asks, pushed up tightly to his chest, “Are you sure we can’t change your mind?”

Allura is quick to join. “If you want to learn about Terra, the noble Altean library has nearly unlimited resources for you to search through.”

“I hate goodbyes,” Hunk pathetically says.

“I’m not leaving forever. I’m coming back. Now that the sea and land are at peace, you can be sure of that, okay?” Shiro bolsters Pidge. To Allura he says, “It’s where I need to be. This isn’t something I can learn from a book. I need to do this for myself. I would say it’s been an honor serving alongside you,” he smiles in total confidence, “but this is not the end. This isn’t goodbye, Hunk. You don’t have to worry. None of you have to worry.”

“Yeah, we don’t _have_ to worry but I’m still going to do it anyway.” Hunk’s words are petulant. It reminds Shiro a bit of Lance. He thinks that Hunk and Lance would have made good friends under different circumstances.

“Thank you all for seeing me off.” The man shifts to let them know he’s had his fill. They follow him to his vessel. “I’ll be back soon.”

Deftly, surely, he unravels the rope connecting him to the dock. He rows himself away, waving to his friends’ retreating faces. In barely any time at all, he’s rowed himself near the water where Lance’s lair lies just below. Shirogane doesn’t bother weighing the boat down in any way, nor did he bring preparations other than his homing powder beforehand. He swings his legs over the edge, sinks into the water, wraps his air helmet around his head and sinks himself to the underwater kingdom.

The sharks must know his scent, or feel his particular kind of energy when he dives because just after he does, four of Lance’s servants flank him to escort him to the kingdom’s doors. The blue their eyes glow is no longer a harsh cyan. A richer cobalt takes its place. Shiro wonders if Lance’s eyes and marks are the same. He wonders if Lance knows Shiro’s scent and can feel his presence in the water by now, too.

Slow and steady is the procession to the kingdom gate. Where once he passed the creatures of the deep, their eyes were filled with suspicion and guile. As he is guided to the gates now, every aquatic creatures of all sort seem to bow when Shiro passes by. He hopes it is only out of respect than fear.

Two by two, the black tipped sharks depart in opposite directions when they reach the threshold of Lance’s throne room. Shiro takes a quick second to take in the sight. There is not a corner of the room in which his eyes are not assailed; ribbons and shells and pearls of all colors are strewn about. Inch by inch of sand is thickly covered with jewels, gifts and accessories for Lance to indulge.

Lance himself is modest on his throne. The contrast of the riches of his seat and the humility of his outfit are wide. The mighty scepter in his hand reminds Shiro of his place.

The man looks to the ground beneath Lance’s feet, then to the god as he watches without interruption. He takes a guess, “Offerings?”

“Presents.” Lance corrects.

“Oh. Happy birthday, then.” Shiro says, half glib.

“Ha. That’s funny. I’m laughing on the inside.” Even though Lance’s sarcasm is sardonic, it is delivered with a effervescent grin. “They’re presents of thanks, if you really have to know.”

“Thanks.” Shiro thinks. “For restoring the sea to peace?”

The god confesses, “Most of these are for you.”

“Me?”

Lance lays his scepter down across his lap. “Yeah, you. In thanks. For saving the sea, uncovering the truth. For restoring the sea to peace.”

Shiro hums, raising his brow. He’s careful to step over the- well now _his_ presents- treading lightly where Lance sits. He has to look up to meet the god’s eyes when he asks, “Why are you here?”

The Captain deflects, “Why is that the question you always ask?”

“I think it’s a pretty fair question.”

“Fair? Yeah, you’re right.”

“And?” Lance pushes his scepter over, letting it sink to the sand.

“And what?”

“Why are you here? Again?”

“To see you.” Shiro steps closer.

“Because?”

“I thought it would be a good idea.”

“You saw me… not that long ago” Lance reminds, genuinely confused.

“I wanted to see you again.”

He knows he can’t ask “why” or “because again” so Lance tries, “For the purpose of?”

“Asking if I can stay.”

That has him gasping. He’s back in his mer form, cobalt marks humming with supernatural energy. Their color doesn’t flair, but his tick tail curls inwards towards himself. Scratching his tail with a nervous finger, he’s scarce to believe what he just heard. To make sure, he has Shiro reassert.

“Stay?”

Assert, Shiro does. “Yes. Stay. In the sea. In your kingdom.” He elaborates, “I just thought it would be a good idea if I made a place here in your kingdom, and acted as a go-between for you and Terra. I don’t want any risk of a repeat of what happened between us.”

“Us?” Lance squeaks.

“Our kingdoms.”

Lance mules it over. “Stay. In my kingdom. With me…. as a go-between.” The words only barely scrape out of his throat, Shiro can only just hear him when he says “ _Is that all you’re doing it for_?”

The god doesn’t look like he wanted Shiro to hear that. He altruistically pretends he didn’t hear.

“Are you… sure about that?”

Captain Shirogane snorts in the god’s face. “You sound just like my friends.” He expects a witty comeback in return, or maybe another quip. He gets neither. In return he gets Lance’s sudden contemplation.

Finally he liberates it asking, “Am I your friend, Shiro?”

 _Friend. Is Lance a friend to me?_ It becomes the Captain’s turn to contemplate. _I don’t think friends act the way we did to each other when we first met, nor does a true friend attempt to seduce the other for security gain._ He thinks he’ll have to alter _friend’s_ definition to fit Lance into it. _Regardless, I don’t think Lance fits into the realm of “friend” that easily, either. He’s something different. Not unfriendly. Just different._

“Only if you’re my friend,” he resolves saying.

Lance replies, “I think it would be in both of our best interests’ if we were friends. Especially if you’re going to stay in my palace…” he lowers his voice, “…with me…” Like the crack of a whip, his voice brightens right back up. “But are you sure you’re sure that you want to do that? I mean, do you really want to stay here, after all that’s happened?”

 _Friends can make up with each other._ Shiro’s thoughts promise. _Even after a literal war between them, though?_

He talks over his doubts. “I want to make sure the sea is safe, Lance.”It’s not enough. It sounds weak to even Shiro’s ears, and he knows the god isn’t buying it, either. He’s already said the piece thoughe, so he commits to it. “We both know that neither of us can afford any more people getting hurt, so if I can do something about it, why wouldn’t I? Kolivan just commissioned squadrons to hunt down the druids, but who knows how many more are still out there?” Shiro commits to it a little too much, a little too soon. “How better to protect you than by living here myself, where the druids started it?”

“You? Protect me?” It’s nearly a scoff, but Lance softens it with his earnestness. “You know I can protect myself plenty, right?” He points to his mighty, unfurling tail.

“You can protect me, then.” Shiro offers. “Me and my lowly mortal legs.”

They both have a good laugh about that, letting it filter down naturally. They catch their breath. One more time, Lance asks Shirogane if his mind is completely made up.

“You sure you’re sure you’re sure about this?”

The man nods. “I’ll be able to go back to the surface, right? And see my friends?”

“Of course.”

“And your… servants won’t have an issue with me staying here?”

“ _Pffft,_ ” Lance waves a hand. “For my people, you staying here would be the opposite of an issue.”

“Then it’s settled. For the indeterminate future, I’ll plot myself here.”

Normally, Shirogane would hate, be absolutely stricken with rage of a plan with so little organization. The past Shiro would shudder to think he would accept the words “indeterminate future” as a real schedule. Normally, Shiro would have been just like the King; never straying from textbook procedures or the cause. The past Shiro would hate to be so lackadaisical with his life, but spending time with Lance has urged him to… go with the flow.

When Shiro gave his apologetics and rhetoric why he should have new orders to be with Lance, it was only done out of King Kolivan’s necessity. Yet the more reasons he gave to Kolivan, then to Keith and Allura and Pidge and Hunk- the prospect made itself more and more appealing. The more reasons he gave, the more he talked himself into it. Speaking here now with Lance, Shiro can’t find enough drawbacks to outweigh the positives. There is only one con that Shiro is having difficulty finding the positive side of.

“I have to say though, these air helmets are inconvenient. For numerous reasons. Do you have any magic or spells or anything that could help with that?”

Lance thrusts himself out of his throne, pressing himself far into Shiro’s space.

“You’re positive you won’t regret this?”

“Aside from the wanting to kill each other part, which by the way we’ve both gotten over I hope, I don’t think I’ll have regrets.”

“I’m over the killing thing,” Lance flippantly says. “You wanna make the sea your new home?”

Realistically, the past few months have made Shiro split his home between the surface and the sea. “It kind of already is,” the man shrugs.

“Okay. Okay,” Lance breaths. He rests his clawed hands over Shiro’s neck. “You better not regret this, either.”

Lance wraps his tail around Shiro’s legs, and the man gives in. He yields to the sensation.

_I think I derive too much pleasure from this than I really should._

He thinks it, up until Lance tilts his head to press his lips against Shiro’s again. Unlike before, the way Lance moves his mouth against Shiro is purposeful. Genuine. He doesn’t kiss to take any sensation, instead letting himself experience the innocent pleasure of exploring Shiro. They kiss, and Shiro raises his hands to palm against Lance’s back. Fingers trace up and down where firm, bunching muscle cord under skin. In this kiss there is nothing to take, only give. While the man’s eyes stay closed, the magic begins.

Before his shut eyelids, bursting, shooting colors spew from Lance’s hands. Red, blue, yellows and greens and purples curl around Lance’s wrists. They wrap against Shiro’s body. Suddenly Lance takes a hand up around Shiro’s neck. He undoes the air helmet. The man kisses Lance deeper.

Every rainbow color flies in all directions, but conceal Shiro’s body from the neck down. Where his and Lance’s lips connect, he feels breath being pushed into him. The hands pressing down on his neck are cool, but begin to feel strange and overwhelming. It as if his neck gains unbelievable nerve endings, registering the palms of Lance’s hands as pain. Then, his neck begins to flutter.

Shirogane scrunches his brows together, hardly believing this transformation. All around his body is heat and light. It melts away the slip suit around his legs. Becoming wrapped in his own orb of shifting color, he begins to drift away from Lance to make room. He opens his eyes to see Lance gazing on him with pride.

 _Or maybe that’s awe_?

The man raises his hands to his fluttering neck, wanting to feel the proof for himself. Clawed tips meet the tendons of his neck when he pushes down.

_Sure enough. I have gills._

Colors and light and heat and bubbling water diffuse over and around Shirogane. A crowd has begun to assemble where he can see, all of Lance’s nobility and serfs look onto him with ill-hidden surprise. The Captain moves to kick his leg out to face his audience, only for it to result in a painful jerk.

Swallowing down his throat and breathing through his gills, he looks down his body. There existing, without a shadow of a doubt, is a rubbery spotted tail connecting to his torso. Lance’s tail is grey with black tipped fins, but Shiro’s entire appendage is a piebald black and white. It’s bigger than Lance’s. It’s almost too much for the man to believe.

Shirogane flicks out his tail a couple of times, learning its touch and mechanics. Color and heat begin to recede from him. They surge back into the god’s hands. He looks back into the other’s eyes, finding all the color and heat surged back into them.

Lance pulls himself back to Shiro’s body. The first times when he looked at him, Shiro thought Lance was simply not being subtle. As Lance’s eyes roam over Shiro’s tail, fins and gills, their gaze far bypasses subtlety. Lance’s eyes are predatory.

He whispers in Shiro’s ear, “If you’re going to live here, you might as well have these too.”

Shiro smiles to him, then spins himself around. He looks down his back, holds out his new textured hands, turning all of his body this way and that to get a good look.

“Will I be able to change back? Would you be able to change me back?” the man asks awestruck.

Misunderstanding, Lance mumbles to him, “I could, yeah. I guess.”

Shirogane beams. “Good.” He hooks a finger under the god’s drooping chin. “Because when I do, imagine the look on everyone’s faces.”

Lance’s marks flash bright with a great red beam. His resounding smile is ebullient, and even brighter.

“I can already see them now.”

They laugh and laugh and laugh, swimming away from the throne room with their entourage behind them. Lance takes Shiro’s arm, and the two explore the kingdom and all its sunken mysteries.

The sea is dark. Shirogane has seen a great number of dark and haunting things. He has seen the blueish dripping blood of enemies slain. He has seen dark intentions of enemy kingdoms, and the dark hate that the war of the sea and Terra has wrought. The god’s gentle hand over Shiro’s arm is kind. The bright glow of his marks could not be any more light.

As they tour the hidden mysteries of Lance’s divine kingdom, he lets himself dare to hope again.

_It doesn’t feel like a dare anymore. I can bask in it, now._

Shirogane has finally succeeded, for he is sure that he has seized Lance. It comes at a price, however; he knows that undoubtedly, Lance has seized him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit:  
> By unpopular demand and one (1) request, ( ';3),, The Lore.
> 
> I'm going to try to start big and work my way in.
> 
> So yeah, first and foremost, Terra is not the planet Earth. Terra is a kingdom ON Earth, and in the grand scheme of this timeline, actually pretty "new". I laugh as I write new because I set Shiro's story in Terra in a vague alternate universe Dark Age. Lance by this story's timeline, would have been born around... let's say the Bronze Age? Basically, anytime you think when Acient Greek epics set their stories; that Lance.
> 
> Now to the gooder stuff.
> 
> The civics of Terra I actually had a lot of fun with playing around with in my mind and in no way do I have the capacity to flesh it out in full detail but here we go.
> 
> Terra, as we and Shiro know it, is essentially an oligarchy. Youve got the human president (President Rincon), the Galra King (Kolivan) and the Altean Archmage (Alfor, Allura). Since humans inhabited the Earth and the Alteans and Galra just managed to find them out in space, the president by most accounts holds the most political "power". Now this is absolutely the 'murican in me but I'm actually kinda partial to the repulic style of government... and like... I already get it... I live in it.....Cool. 
> 
> Everything about the president functions how a generic American president would, aside from the fact that there's no Senate. Just the House. Being that the president has to make nice with the super intense Galra and equally battle-ready Alteans, human presidents really aren't the best historians or politians but diplomats. In Terra, there is uncompromising necessity for presidents to pursue higher learning in public speaking and social networking.
> 
> The Galra King is... really just there to make the Galra happy. At first it was difficult for me to justify or explain the King's use beyond being say... a commadant for the Galra army, navy, what have you, and being a General in the human's DOD, what have you, but no! He's more! While yes he is the figure head over the collective species' defense, the King also oversees colonization and exploration. But don't worry, it's like. A cool colonization exploration. And I know, I hear you, I know they're still Galra but at this point in the story, Zarkon's done with. Haggar was only at large. 
> 
> ...
> 
> Listen!!! In this fantasy world,,, Kolivan and his team of trusted officals can go to different territories and planets and say hey wanna join Terra and they'd be like yeah and it'd be cool or they'd say nah and then have war like yeah I mean they're still at war but it's COOL GUYS it 's coOL
> 
> Now onto the Archmage  
> so the Archmage absolutely has the least amount of "power". Definitely at first glance. But he as the "least power" over Terra like the Senate has over the president. (We all know who's pulling the strings here.) Magic for the Alteans in this universe is very elemental, so you can very well have stuff like A:TLA going on, but it's also very technological. So like stuff you see in Voltron. Look, if there's something their magic is NOT like, it's Harry Potter. Back to the Archmage, he doesn't get voted for like a president or possess "the blood" like a King. Instead, Alteans go through r i g o r o u s training and tests to see if their magic is good enough. Essentially. It's kinda Kral Zera; the mages duke it out and if you want to be the Top Mage you kinda have to be training since birth. The Archmage fords the way in technological and scientific advances. 
> 
> So basically in war time, the president sees and agrees on the threat, teams up with the King to send their combined troops, while the Archmage is really their royal adviser and oracle who patches up the soliders when they get home.
> 
> The president, King and Archmage aren't so much parts of government as they are factions within the kingdom they rule. Does that make any sense? For the most part, each leader stays in their own lane. It's not like the Galra won't listen to something the archmage might say, but they'll be quick to remind them where they get their direct orders from. 
> 
> I... think I got everything.


End file.
